Wherever there is light, there is a shadow, such has been the case for all of time. Think of the flickering spaces left by the fire newly-lit, the majesty of greatness banishing others to obscurity, the darkness we cover ourselves in to hide from the truth, or even the night retreating from the oncoming dawn, and understand why more stories are told about the light.
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They lurk, they follow - by Olivia Nasser (Gr. 10) In the quiet of the city, they are there. In the gleaming of the sun, they are there. In the corner of every room, every fence, every house, every mind, they are there. Shadows lurk upon all that we do. They linger, they follow. My shadow is heavy. It is full with my secrets. My shadow is a burden. Though I try to rid myself of it by hiding in the shade, it finds me. My shadow knows me all too well. On some days, it knows me better than I do myself. Now I understand my shadow. It lurks, it follows. But it’s all a matter of perception Maybe it’s only following me to help me. For it only seems to be by my side on the sunniest of days, And never the gloomy ones. |
Untitled by Noa Thompson (10)
I had to shadow someone this morning. I went to buy some oranges before Christmas. I tend to get assigned to it. I’ve proven good at it, so why stop? It’s an old habit, a tradition from when I was a child. I didn’t mean for anything big to happen, though. I was so frightened you know, it came out by accident. I’m sorry you have to do damage control again. I’ll make it up to you? I hope I didn’t hurt them too badly. I offered to help them, too. I could just do it myself. I supposed they might not accept. Yeah, you know, I’ll do it myself. So I left. (Ha!) Too used to working on my own. (Sigh) I have to be more wary now, after all. Wait - did you hear that? Ah, you too? Sorry, I guess it was just the wind. I’m too jumpy. It’s alright…it was just the wind. I still hear them sometimes too. That’s why I stay in the light. 
Art by: Noa Thompson
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In Your Shadow By Henry MacWha(10)I followed you everywhere in ninth grade. You walked with purpose. Like you knew where you were going. And i didnt know where to go. I didn't talk to many people. I didn't need to. Because I could always talk to you. You were normal. You knew people, said hi in the halls. You could start a conversation without dying inside. And I just stood there next to you. You'd turn around, to make sure I was still there, and I always was. I watched you be normal, like it was a skill I could learn, just by standing close enough. You never walked faster to lose me. Never told me to go make other friends. or asked why I was being weird. You just let me trail behind you, until I figured out how to do it myself. Thank you for letting me be your shadow. The Shade of the Tree by Liam Gable (10)When all arrive I am already resting in the shade of the tree, slightly obscured, barely out of view. There have been many attempts to drag me from the dark where I could be analyzed and decisively and completely deemed unworthy, but they all fail. Boxing in the Shadows by Madeleine Gillis (10)
Lurid sounds of leather battering skin, rowdy whistles and battle cries pierced the air, ensuring that nobody could miss the main event taking place in the courtyard. Drawn to the window by the noise, Nancy peered outside. A gang of boys, all about 10-15 years old, had gathered to watch as two boys took furious swings at each other from inside a small chalk square. The moment was intense and electrified, and Nancy felt like she had to become part of it. The boys’ faces were twisted–clenched teeth and fists, squinting eyes, and full determination–something Nancy knew she too possessed. The wiry, brown-haired boy in the striped shirt took one last swing at the short boy with a blond crew-cut, who quickly put his hands up to protect himself. Before she knew it, the match was over. She had been so lost in the excitement of the sport that she had forgotten about her dance class. That didn’t matter now though, because a second round would be starting shortly. Nancy rushed outside and pushed her way into the crowd. Forgetting that she was wearing her leotard, tights and a ponytail, she was momentarily surprised when her presence was met by a pause in the action and silent, wide-eyed stares. She felt the urge to look down, but she was determined to play in the next round. (continued) Beacon in The Shadows by Violet Lalonde (10) Darkness, as far as the eye can see. A void, with nothing to accompany me but the shadows, and the occasional faint ‘Wake up.’ The voices get louder and louder each day, echoes of unfamiliar voices talking about ‘he might not wake up’ and silent sobs as the voice gets louder. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! The voices are shouting at me now, each step I take into the darkness begging me to wake up, but what am I waking up from? The cold, dark void is…comforting in a way. Like a blanket to keep me safe from all the threats of the world. Safety in the darkness. “Please, father. You need to wake up…” The unfamiliar voice becomes familiar as the feeling of a touch on my hand feels my body, My daughter. A glowing white light shines in the distance, like a beacon of hope in the darkness. The voices get louder as I get closer, closer, closer Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! The sounds of beeping machines fill my ears as a harsh white light blinds me for a moment, before I see my daughter’s tear stricken face. I woke up. Beach Day by Emily GentlesThe sun’s blazing, lighting up every grain of sand, every bit of the ocean’s surface. It sparkles white, blinding if you look at it for too long. It’s bright. Way too bright. Unlike the average person, I despise the sun. And no, I don’t mean dislike or even hate. I loathe that floating ball of fire. Sure, it keeps me alive, keeps the planet spinning. But no one likes to talk about the burns, UV rays, the eye damage, and so much more, I could go on and on. The ocean’s not much better either. Freezing cold, inedible, dangerous waves, and millions of killer species lurking about. But at least it’s avoidable. The sun, however? Not so much. When the sun’s out, I’m in. At least most days. My friends somehow managed to bribe me with the promise of milkshakes, and brought me along for their beach day. I sit in the shade of the nearest tree, glowering at a random spot on the sand below me. The wind rustles the tree above, and a couple of leaves fall in my hair, which I swat off roughly. The audacity of them to bring me here, knowing how much I hate the sun, and the ocean, and the outdoors! Damn my love for milkshakes and their ability to use it against me. I can hear them, laughing and squealing, way out in the water. It’s almost aggravating, in an odd sort of way I can’t quite put my finger on. (continued) A Bone-y Sort of Husk by Daisy Benson (10) Darkness bathed me, swallowed me into its streams and drenched my frame until it shivered, until you stumbled into my purgatory, casting a spotlight onto the shadows I once called home, submerging me in the light I’ve avoided in my years of growing paler in my self-imposed cavernous purgatory, your light sears off layers of my sheltered skin, though it’s for the better, as I come to learn, I could shy away from your light, could hide in the darkness just outside your view, but I don’t, not when I could bask in your warmth, growing more vulnerable with each passing day, soon enough though, you will leave, and you will hate me, and I will, once again, be a numb husk of brittle bones waiting to be found, though perhaps I’ll have something of a tan. Countdown to Midnight By Henry MacWha(10)(C7:00PM. The sun is lowering in the sky. It casts shadows over the world, shades of red and orange covering the earth. The world glows with warmth at its edges.
7:30PM. The sun is gone. The moon slowly rises, but the only light around is created by the streetlights. Around the streetlights, shadows blur. Everywhere else, there is only darkness. 8:00PM. The moon is out, and stars have appeared. The moon casts a silver glow over the world, and yet, some areas remain trapped in darkness. Trees cast rings of darkness all around them. 8:30PM. The neighborhood grows quieter. Porch lights flicker on, warm yellow pools spilling onto front steps. Windows glow amber against the darkening sky, and inside, lamps cast long shadows across empty rooms. The streetlights hold their ground against the dark, small and steady, as the night presses in a little closer. 9:00PM. Some houses have gone dark. Families are quiet. There is still a quiet hum of the city, but it is fading. A lone car drives down the road. Its headlights gleam over the earth, dispelling the shadows from everything the light touches. (continued) A Cat's Company by Emily Gentles
Indebted to your Shadow by Madeleine Gillis (10)
6 May, 2026 I picked up the cardboard box full of stuff that felt too light considering the gravity of the situation. Another set of hands caught mine as they intercepted the box, slipping it away from my grasp. My brother’s eyes flickered towards mine, then looked away just as quickly. With unspoken words, he wrapped my unremarkable box of things into a protective cage with his two arms, hugging it briefly before turning to place it down with the rest of the boxes scattered around the front door. I stood in the middle of the room, tracing the outlines of the boxes like it would prevent them from leaving. As the younger sister, I’ve always existed in the shadow of my older brother. This was not really a bad thing to me, most of the time. My brother’s shadow provided me protection and safety, like a cozy blanket shielding me from reality and allowing me to be a child for as long as I could. The knowledge that he’d been through it all before me and survived somehow helped me to keep going. But now, contrary to everyone’s expectations, I’m the one who’s leaving. He’s staying home, and I’ll be all alone to find my way without him. (continued) 
Art by: Madeleine Gillis
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Anchor On My Neck by Elena Jacob (10) I want to sell my shadow. Not for cheap, Just for good. I can’t carry her darkness everywhere I go. An inevitable, looming awareness that she’ll always be there, To remind me of all the times I was pushed or belittled in her. I need to sell my shadow. The inescapable, Stalking, Silent footsteps behind me. I can’t burn it away, Or freeze it from my body. A blade is futile, and a gun is useless. I need a merchant or a swindler to barter for her, Someone to break this connection I’ve been dragging from my past, Smothering me with the knowledge that once in my life, My shadow was one hundred percent of me. Dan the Shadow-man by Mylo Pouliot (10) He lurks at the very, very edge of your vision. When I say the edge, I mean the very edge. Right at the border of your peripheral hemisphere, where the lines between reality and your imagination blur into a shadowy fog. He’s the thing you see when you dart past a storefront, where a person, or a mannequin, or a shirt watches you. You can’t tell. You were walking too fast. But that blurry blob that barely renders is actually… Dan the Shadow-man! Born the illegitimate child of darkness and Alzheimer’s, he stalks unsuspecting subjects at the very back of their visual processors, never letting himself truly be seen. He preys on the busy, those who fail to take the time to notice their surroundings. You’ve heard of them. The people who walk into oncoming traffic while lost in thought. You laugh. You tell yourself that you could never be so careless. While you laugh at that poor person, Dan the Shadow-man laughs at you. He holds his big belly in a gleeful way and laughs and laughs, because he knows more than you. You can sometimes make out his laughing frame in the very corner of your eye, but your attention is inevitably scratched up by whatever’s in front of your face. So be warned, dear one. I am writing this hastily on my phone, because I fear that he is coming for me at this very instant. Take great heed, and always pay attention around you, for that is the only way to look out for Dan the Shadow-man. Maybe, just- Hidden away by Olivia Nasser (10) They are hidden away from the world Hidden away from society Hidden away from the beauty of the nice, warm sun Yet I still envy shadows The world doesn't look at them They are free. Free to lurk, Free to breathe Free to live They don't have to carry the oh so consuming weight of fitting in, Of being normal I wish I was a shadow I wish I was hidden away Assorted Topics from the Back of Your Mind by Dominic Ngo Horton (10)
4:15 PM. Sam shuffles out of the store with his new purchases. Cake ingredients, and a lightbulb to replace the one that keeps flickering in his kitchen. Winter drags on, with the days getting longer, but still short. He pulls his scarf closer to his face, praying he can get home before dark. 4:23 PM. The sun is already starting to set, casting shadows in the foliage outside the train. Scrolling through the news, he clicks something about a product recall, skims through it, and buries it in the back of his mind. 5:11 PM. It’s already pitch-black outside when he steps off the bus. Truly a testament to the speed of this city’s transit. With blizzard conditions outside, and between the snow and the lack of light, he can hardly see five feet in front of him. Not even a minute after he sets foot inside, the inside fills itself with the same darkness. Of course. Winter. Power outage. It’s childish, maybe, but Sam is afraid of the dark. Maybe all those stories about monsters lurking in the shadows stuck with him as a child. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have much choice since his only other option is going outside. Feeling something powdery on his hands, he holds them up to the brightness of his phone flashlight, realizing that the bag of flour he bought was somehow punctured on the way home. Sighing, he brushes it off his hands and carries his groceries to the kitchen counter. Unknown to him, he leaves a small trail behind him. He’d had some plans for work that seemed important... Maybe he would've worked on those. Maybe he would've called Martin, the guy he'd been seeing. Maybe he would've video-called his parents for the first time since he moved out. ...But all those things are out of reach, he realizes, holding the phone at various different angles in an attempt to get his data to work. When he finally picks up a connection, the battery indicator dips from 1% to 0%. Like the electricity and Wi-Fi, his phone dies an abrupt death. (continued) The Available Facts by Liam Gable (10)I start each day by arraying the available facts, |
Art by: Devin Caguioa
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Cecelia by Devin Caguioa (10)
(whispers) I can’t escape it… No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to escape that damn memory. (pause) No matter what I try to do, the words I try to say, I'll always be reminded of my actions. I can’t even look at my own silhouette without gagging. It doesn’t matter what I wear, how short I chop my hair, or how much makeup I cake on my face, I still feel like the same monster I was years ago. (voice cracking) It haunts me. It was so long ago and yet, I can’t forgive myself for what I did. (pause) The real thing that haunts me though is my own actions. I couldn’t contain myself that day. I know better now, but I also knew better back then, better than to say what I said about them. I let resentment against them build up when I should’ve just talked about with them. I mean, seriously, when your friend steals the spotlight from you every chance they get, if they continue to spew little white lies to your face, it’s hard to not get upset. Actually, I believe it’s reasonable to do so. But when you’ve spent too long in the background, when you get fed up with their treatment but you can’t bring yourself to say anything to them, then there’s only so much you can do before you crack. So, you tell others about them and your disdain against them. That they’re not a good friend. Within such a small premise that is the school, it doesn’t take long for the truth to spill. (continued) |