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So me and Marissa finally decided to do it. After so many years of being too afraid, we were going to go into the old house on Maplewood St. There were rumors about it being haunted, but I wasn't too sure. We leave my house to go over to Maplewood at about 4:00. We didn’t want it to be dark while we were there because everyone knows that things are at least ten times scarier in the dark. Marissa slept over at my house the night before so we could spend all day preparing, both emotionally and physically. We had no idea what was in that house, if anything, so it was best to be prepared. We left at 3:45 sharp, so we made sure to get there at four o'clock. We get to the house, 2953 Maplewood, and it looks the same as every time I pass by it while riding through town. Except this time, I don’t have to wonder and imagine what's inside. Were going in.

First, the fence. It's an old iron fence, it looks like it used to be a nice cool black, but the paint has chipped. I can tell that there are little details of smooth scrollwork. Looks like somewhere a rich person would live, if it was brand new. Ivy vines tangle in and out, up and down, weaving through the bars of the fence. It wasn't very tall, maybe about 4 feet or so, so it was easy to climb over. We walked through the dead grass, which was yellow and crispy, and up the rotten wood steps to the front door. The front door was also old, rusty iron. The door slowly opened with a creaking sound, and me and Marissa looked at each other with a look of, "are we sure we want to do this?" as a long hallway appeared in front of us. We grabbed each other's hand and took the first step inside simultaneously.

As soon as we stepped inside there was the immediate feeling that we were being watched. The hall was long, with an old raggedy carpet going down it. There were spider webs and broken glass everywhere, along with rats scattering across the floor. As we walked down the hall I passed by a mirror, it was shattered and small bits of glass were on the floor below. The sun was already starting to set, (great!) and as I saw my reflection the sun glistened in my eye, and it looked as there was a black figure behind me. I whipped around so fast that my ponytail slapped me in the face. But no one was there. I told Marissa to look in the mirror, and she saw it also. This was getting really creepy. I didn’t want to go any farther, but I built up the courage and we walked into the next room. This was the kitchen, and there was a sink placed in the very center of the room, which was strange, because usually it would be against the wall. We walked over to it, and as we looked down the drain, black liquid starting oozing out. This was the turning point of my mindset about this place. Me and Marissa both looked at each other with the same idea. "Let's get the F out of here". As we were about to turn to go to the door, the black liquid went from oozing, to shooting up at the ceiling like a fountain. It shot upwards, and it sprinkled back down and splashed both of us. We turn to ran to the door, and there it was. The black figure, standing in the middle of the hallway. Just standing there. We froze. As my mind was rushing with ideas of what to do, it moved, not just moved, it started running, sprinting at us. As it ran, the hallway seemed to get longer and longer, like a hallucination. The door got farther and farther away, and the walls were pounding. As it reached out and was about to grab us, I screamed. I screamed, and jolted upwards. My alarm went off, and it was 9 am. I was in a cold sweat, my brain pounding from what I thought had just happened. I jolted up from my pillow, and as I did, Marissa did at the exact same time. It had all been a dream.  I wasn’t sure of this though, it felt so real. So as we described the dream to each other, which was the exact same, I turned to shut off my alarm, and there was a small smudge of black liquid on my hand.

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The cracking as we open the rusty broken door gives me PTSD of the horror movies I watched. As I enter with my friends I felt like someone was watching from outside. Moments later the wind creepered though the house and closes the front door. Everyone freaks out but remains calm.

"Do you guys see that or is it my imagination" my friend asked.

"Where" I answered.

He pointed at the broken mirror.

I look closer at the mirror "Is that a girl in the mirror" I said.

We all look behind us and could see anything. While we continued down walking down the hall we hear doors opening and closing. We notice rats and bug eating the dead corpses that was once their peers, as if someone had been murder there. As mid night begins, Zeus becomes anger. We can see the trees bending in the violet storm. You can hear whispers saying "Run……. Run ……. Run".

"Umm hey guys I think we should head out for today" I said.

We ran as fast as we could like a serial killer was chasing us. We all tried to climb the fence but the water was like oil. I notice and exit and pointed to it. The exit was covered in ivy. I was the last one to get out but the ivy felt like it was growing and grabbing me. I finally got out and we all headed to the car. The engine rumble and again

"Battery are dead" my friend said.

"What are we going to do now" I said.

Everyone replied by looked at the haunted house.

"I guess we have to stay here" my friend replied his voice shaking.

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My favorite childhood memory is summer vacations in elementary school. I lived in an apartment complex so it was always a big thing. I and a bunch of kids would always do so many things. There was this lady who had an ice cream truck and would come every year except when everyone would go inside to ask their parents for money she would drive away to the next area of the complex. One day there was a ton of kids at the playground (including me) almost half the complexes kids were outside at the playground. Then we heard the music from the ice cream truck and we all got up and were running outside to our apartments, But I guess one of the kid's dad heard the music first. He said "ill pay for everyone here to get ice cream!" all of us were super excited and he handed all of us two dollars. We said thank you and ran to the ice cream truck! I have no idea how but the ice cream truck lady didn’t see the herd of screaming kids. So we were chasing the ice cream truck around. The lady driving wouldn't stop! I can remember kids screaming "THIS WAY" or "SHE WENT BY THE PARK" it was honestly really funny and the ice cream truck was about to leave the complex until one of the kids screams "WAIT" and goes running full speed to the truck. After a few minutes of kids being handed their ice cream, everyone finally got some. We all went back to the park and enjoyed our ice cream. It's one of the best memories I have, and I think I will remember it forever.

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Once upon a time there were three little kids named Tommy, Jerry, and Fred seeking for adventure on Halloween night. They came across this abandoned house on the end of the street. "Lets go inside the house" says Fearless Fred.

" I'm not sure, isn't that trespassing?" Says Tommy.

" It will be fine."

Tommy and Jerry look at each other Worried, but they enter the boarded house. Once they are inside they notice all these stains on the walls and the rugs. Jerry says, "I'm not so sure about this."

"Don't be a baby," says Fred.

As they walk through the hallway they hear a strange creaking noise down in the basement. Fred is intrigued and goes toward the sound. So being the good friends that Tommy and Jerry are, they choose to follow behind their bold friend.

Everything is silent until Fred and Jerry hear a loud scream. "AAAAH!!!"

"What is it, what is it," the two ask?

"Cobwebs, cobwebs!" says Tommy who is scared out of his mind.

"Don't worry, let's keep moving forward."

When they walk in the basement, Jerry hears two faded words. "Come closerrrr…"

"Did you hear that?" he said.

"Hear what? I didn't hear anything." says Fred

"Maybe, I am just hallucinating."

At the end of the basement, there is this mysterious door. And as fearless as their friend Fred is, he began to sweat. Once, they opened the door, they saw piles on piles of dolls all facing their direction.

"Oh my god, what is this?" said Jerry.

"I don't know, maybe we should turn back", says the once fearless Fred.

Then they hear an unknown creature like noise whispering out to them. "are you moving in? To STAY!

"RUN," they all scream.

They're all sweating and panting as they bolt for the door.

"You can run, but you can't hide!" says the creature.

All the boys smash through the door and tumble on the sidewalk  and scramble home.

The creature soon comes to the door and says, "Ah man, was that too scary?" says the old man.

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my family and I were in California to visit our aunts and uncles, and our older brother who moved there about 3 years ago. At first it was amazing, I would go to new places, enjoying the view with my family. until every night I would sweat every two seconds and even with a fan blowing through my skin I was still sweating like a wet dog. My aunt had a lot of people come over her house as if it were a huge mansion she had, nobody couldn’t pass down the hallways, she would also always leave the door wide open, since it was hot all the time. Spending in California was great except for the weather, my moms aunt worked at Disneyland and she got us free tickets to go for the day. I was so hyped with joy I wanted to scream in the outside so loud I couldn’t just yet. my older brother came along too, we all as a family went. A amount of people in Disneyland blew me away and how hot it was that day although, Looking how big and amazing rides they had I was bursting with excitement I didn’t know if I was afraid at the same time about the rides.

The middle of the afternoon my  two brothers were talking about going on this huge coaster, I heard them asking my parents if they could go while me and my parents went on this toy story ride, ''later on my brothers came back laughing'' I did not expect them to o on a fast huge coaster while me and my parents were waiting for the next ride in the cars. The cars was so fun I was laughing the whole time all.

even though that excitement and joy got away when my brothers thought it was a ''great'' idea to go to this haunted house coaster elevator, at first I didn’t read or even see the ride, instead I just followed them but my dad left waiting back to the exit and I was confused and told my mom ''where's dad going?'' I was confused but she said ''he doesn’t want to go so he's gonna wait '' I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to go to the ride and leave my dad alone, but I still went there was this elevator and only 6 or 7 people could sit in the chair. ''I remember thinking ''its going to be fun right?'' I was as scared my mom was holding my hand so tight I wanted to let go'' but I didn’t I grabbed on tight as well while the elevator was going up and down really fast I tried closing my eyes, the air, the elevator opening made my eyes feared and afraid I started crying my tears dropping each by one and one until we stopped… everyone looked at me but I was only just a kid that time. I was angry to trust myself and trust my brother, my mom wanted to make me feel better.so we stopped by taking photos with Disney characters, and went to eat at IHOP, even though I cried and was mad I still enjoyed every other rides with my family.

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Why Storm means so much to me. I have 3 cats; Lola, Charlie, and Storm who is the youngest. Storm is an orange tabby with ears to small for his head, and it’s possible that he has the biggest stomach that moves when he walks. His eyes are a beautiful green that you could just get lot in. When he is sleeping, I bet you could hear him snoring from across the house. Storm is my cat; he isn’t literally mine but everyone in my house say he is me at because he likes me the most. I know it sounds weird to say that he like me the most, but he sleeps in my room almost every night and when he does, he usually sleeps on me or right next to me. I got Storm when I was in the 5th or 6th grade when he was really young. My dad found Storm through a Facebook ad saying he was 8 weeks old. When we went to go get him, he was covered from head to toe in fleas and was super skinny and scrawny, when we asked the people about him they said he was only 4 weeks old, which is way to young to be leaving his mother nu they had already separated them. He was being fed adult cat food when he didn’t even have teeth. So, we bought him, for 20 dollars.

After awhile me and Storm bonded, and he started sleeping in my room at night. The only other room he had slept in was my Mom and Dads, so it was super exiting when he slept with me for the first night. One thing I really liked was bring able to brag to my older sister he likes me more. For a while he would go back and forth between me and parents’ room multiple times a night. After my dad left, he only ever stayed with me. He has figure out that if he scratches on the door, I will let him in/out of my room so now my door is completely ruined and the paint is pealing off on both sides but its fine cause he’s adorable. 

Last year, Storm got really sick. He was extremely bloated and wouldn’t let anybody pet him, we all got really worried and took him to the emergency vet. The vet came in after what felt like eternity and told us he had crystal in his bladder making him unable to pee and that we needed to change his food, that night we got some medicine and we took him home. The next day he was looking a little better, we gave him his medicine and took care of him. After a few days he got worse s we took him back to the emergency vet, once again it felt like an eternity before we got any information about what was going on, they said the same thing was happening again. They suggested that we take him to our normal vet so he could stay and get overnight treatment. We took him and they kept him for 2 nights before we could go back and get him. After that we had to keep a really close eye in him, so he lived in my room for about a month or so. He isn’t sick anymore, but it was really scary.

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One time someone gave me some good advice was when I was in sixth grade and I was at summer camp with others and he is 16 years old from a small town in Iowa. He's told me a great many profound things that has made me think to understand them. But nothing has made me think more than him saying, "I was going to do something that I had never done, and see things I could not understand and never believed existed. This is history, and it is also the truth". He was quite a poignant person. And I never could understand him when we first spoke, but after a while of talking to each other and thinking beside ourselves, I finally found a glimpse of what was going through his head.

He was thinking about how every time we make choices based on chances and impulses, we often find ourselves more lost than when we started out. And even though we get lost, we find ourselves stable and sound in the end. This is why people say to take chances and risk ourselves. This is why every time a cave man stepped outside his cave to search for food, he made history. History is made of chances. And chances are made of people.

He never said anything too  happy, he never even seemed happy. Even when it was just the two of us, hanging out. He always had this look on his face like he was thinking about something that was more important than everything else. Even though we only had about a week to spend time together, I learned a great many things and that was just one of them.

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I have many favorite memories from my life. I think my favorite memories are not only my favorite because of when and where they happened, but who were living in those moments with me.

While growing up, I've spent most of my summer and breaks at my family beach house on the Oregon Coast. Most of my best memories are spent at the beach. I love getting ready there in the morning. I can smell the ocean while I open up my windows. I blast Surfaces and Still Woozy which rattled the house.

Another one of my favorite memories was spent with my best friend of 11 years. For her birthday, we took a trip down to Seattle. The whole trip we listened to the same 3 song the whole trip. 3 Nights by Dominic Fike, Goodie Bag by Still Woozy, and Sunflower by Rex Orange County. My favorite part of the trip was getting ready in the fancy bathroom together while listening to music. We spent the next day mostly up in the hotel room but got Starbucks at least 3 times while waiting for her mom to get out of meetings. I had gotten no sleep so I was loaded of caffeine but I put that aside and had fun.

My last favorite memory was with my two sisters. My oldest sister had just turned 16. After her birthday dinner she took me and my little sister on a drive. We rolled down every window in the car and sped around town whole breathing in the warm summer air. We listened to Revvin' My Cj7 by Summer Salt. The music was so loud in the car that it blocked out the rest of the world.

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At the end of the summer we were getting bored, we couldn’t go on any trips and sad it was coming to an end. My grandpa was on his way up to our cabin for a couple days and I begged my parents to go up with him. At the island I couldn’t do much since he was working on the cabin and I had no one to hang out with, so I spent the time over at our neighbors cabin with their kids who are younger than me. Our smiles always grew bigger when we jumped in and went tubing, so that’s what we had to do!

"Caitlyn we are going to come pick you up to go tubing" Reese yells from across the water at me. "ill be working on the porch be back my dinner." my grandpa tells me as I grab my life jacket and jump in the boat. Aidan who was 3 at the time and Reese who was 6 went first as Kalissa(4) and I were in the bow of the boat bored out of our minds. Finally after what seemed like hours, it was our turn. We couldn’t wait to go fast unlike the others who requested to go slow.

Just like always, while I was laying down on the tube I was the happiest, having a great time and only falling off once, when I saw everyone look to the left. I couldn’t hear anything over the motor but as Q turned it off I heard and saw. A humpback whale in the inlet just a couple away from ours! While I was on a tube! When I got back to the cabin I was so excited to tell my grandpa what happened. "did you see it breach" he asked me after I told him  "because he came right in front of the cabin and breached! I bet it was Jervis!" "we have to tell Fred!" I told him.

Fred, who owned the marina and who is one of my grandpas best friends had an amazing adventure on his boat where he went to Jervis Inlet and became friends with a whale on multiple occasions. He told me his long story with pictures and everything while I told my short exciting story. We joked about it being Jervis and told more stories over dinner and cake.

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It was scorching hot that afternoon as we stumbled through the tight trails, guarded at the edges with stinging nettles and black berry bushes that slashed at our exposed knees. Where ever we were, it definitely wasn’t in the direction of the beach like we intended, but it was better than helping our parents set up tents back at the camp site. Another summer camping trip like we always used to do, somewhere with access to the ocean but it was too long ago to remember where exactly. As usual we were camped out with two other families, both of which had daughters my age, 7 at the time, forming a trio that always found a way to keep ourselves occupied. The shore was full of overgrown camper-made trails that lead to nowhere, of course this only added to the thrill of 3 unsupervised 7 year-olds trying to find the rocky beach below. By the time Neva, Winnie and I reached the end of our chosen path, my little legs were itchy and scraped and my bare feet ached as I regretted my decision to walk with no shoes that day. Initially I was hit with a wave of disappointment, another dead end. This particular dead end placed us on top of what appeared to be a miniature cliff looking out onto the water below, with a space between the tree's just large enough for us to sit side by side and dangle our sore legs over the edge. We decided to stay there and take a breather before retracing our steps and continuing our search for our tide pool oasis. After a few minutes had passed we began think that maybe this ending wasn’t quite so bad as we watched the salty ocean dancing and licking at the rocks below, splashing mist up almost far enough to sing the broken skin on the soles of our feet. We were small enough to feel like we were at the top of Mt. Everest, and convinced ourselves that this was the clearest, widest view of the sky ever seen by humankind.

"Imagine how clearly we could see the moon here at night," Neva said, staring upwards at the blank slate of blue above.

"it's only 4:30," Winnie shot back, "it won't be dark for hours we can't stay here for that long," She protested, I nodded in agreement and fear of getting in trouble if we were gone from the campsite for too long.

"Think about it, we have a tent all to ourselves, no one would notice if we came back here tonight after everyone was asleep, come on guys this is our special place." It was like a key was turned in all of our minds simultaneously as the three of us decided that Neva's plan was a work of pure genius.

The clear summer evening quickly passed back at camp, hours filled with campfire dinners, marshmallows, and losing in cards to the older siblings, but as everyone zipped themselves into our their tents we knew our night wasn’t quite over yet. We waited in our brightly colored sleeping bags, filling our tent with the whispers and giggles of three little girls thinking that this was going to be the coolest and most rebellious act of the century. Once about 45 minutes of silence from the surrounding tents had passed, we decided that our parents were finally asleep and now was the time for action. We pulled on sweatshirts over our footie pajamas and unzipped the tent as quietly as possible, slid on our shoes and tip toed out of the camp site bringing only a flashlight with us. We struggled at first to find the path in the dark, but eventually we were back to where we were earlier that day, only this time with shoes and long pants, making the short journey a lot less painful. We reached the cliff and positioned ourselves between the two trees in our previous position, standing in silence as we admired our accomplishment.

Looking back, I'm unsure how 7 year old Neva could have known that this would have been such a perfect place to watch, or how we just happened to be camping on a night where the moon was so bright and full, but it was everything that we had hoped for. Like a giant glowing sphere cut out of the black construction paper sky, the moon hypnotized our little minds, we sat down and simply stared forward. My memories of the view are definitely brightened by the rush of being "rebellious", or at least that was what I thought at the time. Maybe it was much less impressive in reality but I was still so small that it was massive and gorgeous in comparison, either way that night was memorable. The three of us still bring it up every once and a while even after 7 years, that picturesque tiny night adventure still tattooed in the back of our minds. However, all good things must come to an end, after a little while my mom  noticed that we had forgotten to zip up our tent, and once she realized that we were gone the search began and we were brought back to the camp site very soon after. The angry and concerned yells from our parents filled us with guilt and disappointment as we drudged back to our tent, heavy boulders of negativity on our backs. However, the next morning when I woke up to the smell of our parents brewing coffee on the campfire, I didn’t think about how the night ended, I always remember the creamy moon and salty ocean air. I think of that beautiful feeling of rebellion and the stars that were even brighter than our light up sneakers as we sat there, between two trees, on our own little cliff.

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A large Dark building stands in front of us. Leaning in the wind like a old tree, it seems a single gust would blow it over. And yet it has stayed standing for a long long time. So many different stories have been made about this house. No one knows what the real one is. But everyone can agree its creepy and gloomy.

Cob webs are all over every window and the lurking door in the front of the house. It seems like a giant shadow covers the house at all times. Covering everything is a creepy darkness. But standing there were me and my three best friends. Someone at one point had thought of the genius idea to go exploring in the creepy mansion that lived on the outskirts of town. "Why are we here?" I ask my friends,

"Why not." Ethan replies

"I can give you many reason why we shouldn't be here." I respond. And yet we still all walk up to the front porch.

We pushed open the massive wooden door and started our way in. We stepped over tipped over furniture as we made our way through, searching for anything cool. I made my way to the back of the house and pushed open a door. A display of knives laid on the floor covered in dust. Despite being there for what looked like forever, all were razor sharp. I looked around curious to what else the room held. I was looking down when I noticed one knife, that lay not covered in dust. But instead a deep red liquid. I jumped back, slamming myself into a dresser. My friends ran over to me, "What the hell just happened!?"

"Look." I said their eyes made their way over to where my finger was pointing, and I could almost feel their hearts drop to.

"Ohh 🤬." we all turned and were about to start sprinting away. But then we heard the door creak close, and we heard a key click in, locking us in.

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It felt as though the house was looking at me begging me to enter so that I could be dragged down into some dark underworld where everyone who entered went. Even though the widows were boarded up I could feel something looking at me. I finally worked up enough courage to walk up the front steps, there were cobb webs everywhere it was clear that nothing of this world had lived there in a very long time. I took the few seconds I had before entering the house to pray I wasn't going to die or get possessed or anything like that and also to thank god I didn't live in Maine. The door creaked as it opened. I looked back one last time at the fog leading up to the house. I walked inside the house, It was completely dark and there was no sound except for the faint light and static coming from the other room, the TV was on. Jeez I thought to myself it's like that scene in poltergeist where the girl gets sucked into the TV set.

"Are we going to die here?" I heard a small voice ask from behind me, I just about hit the ceiling when I turned around my sister was standing there.

"why are you here?" I asked her "you almost gave me a heart attack,"

"sorry," she replied "I saw you leave and wanted to know where you were going so I followed you," I could sense that she was regretting her decision, and in all honesty so was I. I had walked past this house on my way to school everyday for at least six years and wondered what it looked like on the inside, Today  I finally broke, I would have come in daylight but my parents were home. So here I am with my little sister at 11:00 at night it house that hasn't been lived in by anything of this world at least in who knows how long.

I hear footsteps coming up behind me and brace myself for the worst.

"Hello," my sister says, I look down at her.

"What?" I say

"there," she says pointing right past me so I turn around and there she is a small girl that looks about my sisters age.

"Hello," she says replying to my sister "I've been so lonely all these years stay a while,"

"We can't," I say "We have to go home," as I'm talking to her I start to examine the room again there's marking's all over the walls from an assortment of tools it's like she's trying to escape.

"Please," she says "Master says I need new friends," when she talks it's like she's deep into my soul.

"No," I say "I'm sorry but we can't," I grab my sister and we book it out of the house leaving the small girl behind and that huge house behind us.

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I have always been told I get to involved with my shows, but the truth is I just connect with the show really well. Its like making friends, in the beginning of the show there's really no connection but as you continue watching the show its like you grow with it. You know them so well that you could have a quiz on every single detail about them and you would know every answer. When you get that connected its like you are in the show but not. When you get off of it, its like you enter reality again. You start acting like them you start getting butterflies in your stomach because you have a crush on a character. Its like a second world. You know that its not real but you have this connection like you have known them your whole life.

I recently got into the series vampire diaries. Everyone thought this show was such a big deal so I had to watch it. And eventually as I got deeper into every season I realized why everyone was so obsessed with it. As the characters grew closer to each other It was like I was growing closer to them in a way. When someone died I cried when they went off to college I cried when Elena and Damon got together and even had moments together I got butterflies because I was happy for them. When Elena was sad I was sad with her, when Damon was mad I was mad. Every show I watch is like another family I grow. It is weird to think like that but somehow it is like that for me. When the show ended I cried and then now I am watching very episode again start to finish. It is like I haven't watched it at all. Every feeling I had before came back.

Every moment I had to watch It, I would. My parents did not like that I was on my phone for that much. When they watch a show, its just a show. I would act completely different for every show I would watch. When I watched greys anatomy I would wash my hands like they did. I'm watching vampire diaries and I catch myself acting like Elena. My parents think I'm crazy for getting that connected but I like it. When I have a hard day at home I watch my show and its like a second family, my mood completely changes and its like a second chance at the day. A show is more than something you see on tv that’s fake it’s another connection you make in life.

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When I was nine years old which was six years ago. In P.E we started taking the fitness tests and on that day the class was taking the pacer test. I was pretty good at running but I always sucked at tying my shoes. Some people would say I was the fastest kid in the whole grade. The teacher had us pick partners. I picked my friend Sway because he was pretty chill.

The teacher had each pair spilt into two groups one to count their partners laps and the other would run. The teacher had us line up and then he asked in a strong powerful voice "Is everybody ready?" as he looked at the classes shoes to see if they were tied or being tied. Like an idiot I reapplied "Yes" even though my shoes were tied in loose knots that will come untied in five minutes. But instead of asking for help I let him start the test. That’s run I zoned out and just started running like nothing else mattered and I just stopped worrying about everything. But then I noticed that we were at lap 53 and my shoes were untied I went falling to the floor and my hitting the concrete wall of the gym.

I was out cold but only for a few seconds which sucked because I was on the ground with my face on the gym floor and the wall at the same time. I felt like my brain was dropped in a blender and I wish I had just stayed knocked out because I wouldn't be feeling this pain right now. I thought it had been minutes because of the pain I was feeling but it was seconds and Sway called out to the teacher "Teacher Paddy is hurt" and the teacher called my dad after looking at me for a few seconds I was in my dad's truck and he called the doctor and the doctor said "Go to the hospital". I went hospital and they gave me a cat scan  I only remember it being really cold and I was offered a wheel chair but my dad took the button from me.

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My mom had made a point of telling me to never, never, never get in the airlock. Then an airtight three-inch thick metal door would be the only thing between me and the freezing darkness of space. This was years ago, when my family took a half-decade trip from Earth to another solar system. I was only ten, but I felt like I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew how to put a spacesuit on; everyone on the ship was taught it and had drills every few weeks. I believed the vacuum of space was as safe as swimming in a lake. I wouldn't go out too far, I'd come back in after a few minutes.

I felt I needed this. I needed to experience the star-speckled emptiness that's been on the ship's monitors ever since we left Earth's atmosphere. That's the sort of thing months of being cooped up in a spaceship can do, even if it had everything a human needed to be comfortable. There was also a bonus of telling my friends. I could only imagine the look on their faces when I told them that I went for a spacewalk. Of the hundreds of people living on this ship, how many were brave enough to do that?

So one day, I did it. While my parents were asleep, and I was supposed to be, I put on my spacesuit and crept out of our apartment and into the hallway beyond. I was carrying my helmet rather than wearing it, that way I could hear things better and know if there was someone coming. I felt really smart for thinking of that. The lights were dimmed, as most everybody was asleep except the crew on night shift. It was dark, but I could still easily find my way to the airlock.

I crept through the passageways, envisioning myself like some kind of ninja, although looking back I probably looked more like a frog in a spacesuit, awkwardly hobbling to the airlock.

As I was walking through the hallways, I started to hear the soft rhythmic thudding of footsteps in front of me. It was then I realized that I had not prepared at all for what I would do if someone saw me in the passageway. I started to panic, and didn't know what to do. Then I looked down at my helmet, and thought up a brilliant plan, or at least it was brilliant in my ten-year old opinion. I put my helmet on and sauntered down the hallway. Everything was even dimmer than before, I couldn't see much at all. But I thought that if I kept walking, no one would suspect a thing.

After I went around a corner in the passageway, I saw someone in front of me. All I could figure out was a black outline, but I knew it had to be someone from the crew on nightshift. The person stopped walking a few seconds after I became visible, and then spoke.

"Uh, what are you doing here?" said the confused voice, which sounded male.

I prepared my well-practiced deep voice, "I'm going to go do some repairs on the outside of the ship."

"I think you're a little young for that, kid." The man wasn't buying it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I struggled to keep my voice deep, "I'm just short."

"Well regardless of your age, I know for a fact that you shouldn't be doing repairs on the outside of the ship." Judging by his outline moving, the man had just folded his arms across his chest.

"And why is that?" I answered indignantly.

"Because I'm the head of the repair crew, and I know for a fact that we haven't had to repair something from the outside of the ship for weeks. So you should just go back to bed, okay?"

This wasn't going well, but I still had one trick up my sleeve that I thought was rather devious.

"Let me tell you a secret," I said, dropping my fake voice, "come closer." I motioned for the person to come nearer.

"Um…" the head of the repair crew turned his head, looking ahead and behind us, "there's no one else in this hallway. If you want to tell me something important, which I doubt you will, you could just say it at normal volume right now."

"Trust me, come over here."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Still no."

I sighed and decided that my plan to bring the man closer, smack him in the face and run away wasn't going to go so well. I'd have to think up something equally brilliant.

"Look, I really have somewhere to be," the man explained, "and I don't want you roaming around the ship when you shouldn't be. So I'm asking you to go back to your apartment and stay there for the night."

A lightbulb shone in my head; another foolproof idea had formed.

"Then you should go," I said, "go do your work stuff or whatever."

"And you'll go back to your apartment and go to bed?"

"Most definitely." I nodded.

The man started cautiously walking around me, "I'm trusting you on this. You better leave and stop this nonsense."

"I will." I hadn't moved.

"Okay." The person looked back at me, then turned around the corner in the hallway. As soon as he did, I broke into a run.

"Hey, stop! Come back here!" Apparently the man had heard me start running. I couldn't let him catch me so I ran as fast as I could with my spacesuit on, my legs moving heavily below me and my arms flailing about. My big helmet kept wobbling from one side to the other. I felt very speedy. After a while I looked back and realized that he hadn't been following me. I guess the head of the repair crew had decided his job was more important than stopping me. Good. I continued going down the hallway, but at a walk.

After a few minutes of strolling through the hallways, I found it. A large, bulky looking door on the side of the passageway as wide as three people standing shoulder to shoulder. It reminded me of those huge blocky military spaceships I'd seen pictures of, it had all the 90 and 45 degree angles, it was only missing the guns protruding from the sides. The word "AIRLOCK" was displayed in an big red font in the middle of the door. Under it were smaller words reading, "Only use with permission from the captain." I wouldn't be doing that. I was ten. I knew what was dangerous and what wasn't. I didn't need permission from anyone.

With great effort, I pushed the red lever attached to the door up from its downward position. The airlock door hissed and opened up. I stepped inside, feeling victorious. It was a room only slightly wider than the door itself, and the same length deep. The door closed behind me and I checked to make sure my helmet was secured. I looked at the red button on the wall opposite to the door I had come through, which had a clear plastic lid over it to prevent it from being accidentally pushed. Above it, the words "Open Airlock" were written.

I took a deep breath, opened the lid and pressed the button.

# data[].attributes.headline
The House in the Mountain Woods - Olivia Swayne

# data[].attributes.subject
The House in the Mountain Woods - Olivia Swayne

# data[].attributes.body
If you live in the town of Haunt's Dale then you have heard the old stories about the house on the mountain. The one, painted black, that sits miles away from anything except the forest and the edge of the cliff overlooking the town. As children we were told stories to never go near the house or into the surrounding woods.

“Why?” We would complain to our mothers or fathers.

“Because they aren’t safe,” they would respond, never reviling anything more.

No matter how many times we would ask as children we were never given a straight answer. That was until Jack Warren.

At the time Jack was small, helpless, and weak. The other kids would pick on him, throwing things at him, shouting names and cruses.  Until he went into the woods, into the house.

Now, years later, Jack isn't small anymore, isn't weak. His light blond hair shines with the light of the fire we sit around waiting to hear the story of the mountains. With a faraway look in his eyes Jack starts to tell his tail. "The woods were so dark I could barely see my hand when it was this far away from my face,” he lifted his hand to his face, holding it inches from the tip of his short nose. “It was foggy too, almost as if there was a layer of clouds covering the ground.” Jack threw something on the ground, there was a loud popping noise and a grey smoke swirled around our feet.

I had heard this story countless times, every time Jack told it he would light one of those smoke things that people get for the 4th of July, every time someone in his audience would gasp while others’ face’s would pale. “I stumbled my way up the mountain, feeling for trees and bushes. The night was growing colder, and somehow darker. The thought of turning back was becoming more and more appealing, and I even did stop to turn back. Then I heard something. I heard a growl and shuffling in one of the bushes behind me. When I turned to see what it was, I saw glowing green eyes, large, feral, and blood thirsty.

Like any sensible person, I ran. I ran so fast that it felt as if I was flying over the ground, until the creature pounced on my back. I fell to the ground hitting my head hard, while the extreme weight of the thing held me in place.  I must have blacked out for a minute or two because the next thing I knew I was lying in front of the house," Jack pauses.

"If you think it looks old and ominous from down here, you have no idea. The windows were boarded up behind metal bars. There were holes in the frame and woodwork of the house, making the wind whistle as it passed through. The gutters hung distorted off the side of the cracking roof. But despite all that I felt the urge to enter. The stairs leading up to the door wined in protest under my feet, I touch the door slightly with my fingertips and it creaked open, reviling a mangled and torn apart living room and kitchen. I peered inside, in the living room the couch had long tears in the fabric and the coffee table in the center of the dark, open room, lay on the side. The once stone fire place lay in crumbles on the floor, and the bookshelves that lined the walls where bare. Their contents spilled over the uneven wood floors.

I leaned in further and the smell of rot seemed to punch me in the face. In the kitchen dishes and cutlery lay on the counters and piled in the sink covered in mold and cobwebs. The dining table stood surprisingly up right, but I could see the cracks that split deep in the wooden legs. With the little light that came through the cracks in the boards that cover the windows I could see the dust, thick and heavy, falling through the air.

I was just about to take another step into the house when an ear piercing scream broke the eerie silence.  The scream rocked through me, pulling me out of whatever trance I was in and throwing me back into reality. I ran back down the hill. More screams followed by a chorus of growls chased me. The clouds above had cleared just enough to let flashes of light from full moon through the thick branches of the trees, lighting my way just enough to get me back to town. The screams and growls still ring in my ears today.” Jack fell silent as he let the story seed itself into our minds, growing roots that led to the still unanswerable question. What was in the mountain woods?

# data[].attributes.body
For the vast majority of my existence, I have been a goody two shoes. I very rarely stepped out of line. But as my middle school years progressed, I became more of an undesirable. However, never enough for teachers to shun me.
 
To understand this story, you must understand Whatcom Middle School; a three-story fortress of white and green, with plenty of nooks and niches for mischief. One such place was the one-story roof of the gym around the back of the building. This roof had a wide metal staircase in full view of the back parking lot, right next to the band and orchestra portable, leading skyward toward the main roof (which, regrettably, I have never visited) and a landing level to the roof of the gym. This is the route I took one morning, long before school started, when a rather morally gray friend of mine convinced me that sitting on this sub-roof would be a jolly good time.
 
I remember everything.
 
It was cold, windy morning. I got my mom to drop me off an hour or so before school started, and as I walked into the commons my stomach was a Keltic knot. The friend I agreed to meet was waiting at one of the tables in the back corner. I inquired about the issue of our backpacks. 
 
She answered, "We have to take them with us. The lunch ladies will get mad at us if we leave our computers here." 
 
The shifting sea in my stomach molted into an uneasy ocean. Trying to carry a heavy backpack up to the roof didn't seem like the best equation for not getting caught. We would be easier to see and the weight would slow us down. But I still wanted to go. The premature adrenaline speeding through my veins was too much to back down now. "Is anyone else coming?" I asked. 
 
She nodded. "Two other people." 
 
"Ok." And we went. As we walked out of the lunchroom, we could have been going anywhere. But we were going somewhere we weren't supposed to, and I felt like it was written in block letters across my skin. 
 
It could have been winter, the wind was so cold, and maybe it was. It snatched at our limbs and our clothes, as though it needed our warmth to stay alive. The walk around the school was filled with sarcasm and bitter cussing. I recognized much later that I changed around this girl. She distorted who I was the same way water warps sunlight. And the world was swirling around us with each leaf that the wind tossed into the air. 
 
The stairs up to the sub-roof were wide and vulnerable, visible from multiple directions and I could feel the fear pooling in my heart. The paranoia was working its way into my brain. Oh, how desperately I didn't want to get caught. But I pushed away my doubts and cautiously scaled the steps, quiet as a church mouse, the cold metal seeping through the soles of my shoes. As I glanced around for any sign of life, I haphazardly pieced together a plan in my head if a teacher appeared. I needed to be ready for anything. And then we were crouching at the top of the landing. My friend jumped the railing and left her backpack leaning against the cool bars. I dropped my bag and followed her over the edge.
 
We were on the roof. With the chilling white cement beneath us, our coats were spread out in an attempt to stay warm. Our friends joined us sometime after. And we sat there, on the roof, until we couldn't stay there any longer or risk being late for class. But the sickness that rolled around in my gut didn't calm itself until that afternoon, when I was certain we hadn't been seen. I have since returned to the roof and each time, with or without friends, that same sickness curls up inside as I slink through the shadows of morning.

# data[].attributes.body
Why books mean so much to me, they mean so much to me because when I'm reading I feel like I'm apart of the journey, the invisible companion, for example in high action sections or where emotional tension is high I'll get an adrenaline rush, in happy moments I feel elated like I'm walking on clouds with rainbows around me and in sad ones I feel like the whole world has stopped in this one moment and that it will never end and I'm in that sad moment standing over the dead body of a loved one crying just as much as the main character. And when I'm brave enough to go on and read more, I feel like I'm on the adventure with them sitting at the fireplace sharing stories or in a flying car trying to figure out how to drive it instead of at home with piles of homework to do that keep multiplying like evil little goblins trying to drown me. Some of the scenes I remember the best are, in The Map To Everywhere series one of the characters powers is to be forgotten by everyone, unfortunately he can't turn it off so he's forgotten by even people that like him like his caretakers at the orphanage and people he made friends with the only person that remembers him is the main character in the book but in this case they had gotten into a big argument because he decided to stay and as the main character is flying away on a hot air balloon he yells goodbye to hear but she doesn't answer and he realizes the only person who has been able to remember him, has just forgotten him.

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Volleyball means so much to me because I met some of the greatest people, its made me so much more happy, and I can relieve stress while playing. The first reason why it so important to me is because ive met some of the greatest people. They support me so so so so much, we have each others backs at practice or games. We all had a love-hate relationship with each other, making fun of each other and just acting like total idiots who absolutely despise each other. They have helped me so much in my volleyball career to be a better player and so much off court, to shape me into the person I am today. Volleyball brought me to meet such amazing friend. Friends who would drop to the ground and shout like nobody's  business after getting a kill or having a perfect play. Friends who are all hugs and soft on the inside, who are all ears and empathetic when your not at your best.
The second reason why volleyball is important to me is because its made me much more happy. Now im not saying I wasn’t happy before playing volleyball, but now I really have something I am passionate about and look forward to play every week. I didn’t really have any hobbies before volleyball except piano and tennis, my whole life changed since I started playing. My life now revolves around volleyball. Going to practice every week, or even just the thought of playing makes me ecstatic. The thrill of hitting the ball and getting a kill, or reading the hit PERFECTLY and digging it coming out with a perfect pass, the team shouting in joy dropping to the ground, Screams of "OKAY OKAY I See YOU" or " YESSSSS DEEEEEEEN," pumping their fists in the air and giving hard high fives, that’s what makes me so happy. 
The last reason why volleyball means so much to me is that it helps me relieve stress. Because im and outside, it means Im one of the players that hits the ball the most. Hitting the ball with all my pent of stress to let go is so relieving. I can visualize it all the time, my hand becoming stiff as the ball approaches my hitting arm, ready to swing, I watch the ball as it enters like a volcano that has just my line of sight, holding in my breath then exhaling as I release all my strength like into this hit. All to pay off with a kill and my team ecstatically cheering like there's no tomorrow. It helps me release any pent up rage that is sitting within me. I can run at full speed to get save the ball, letting everything go, only focusing on getting to the ball. Its amazing. Just think. Mind focused on one thing and one thing only, every other thought just disappears into nothingness. I just want to win this point, I want to save this ball or get a kill, I want to get the most out of practice today. Head filled with volleyball and volleyball only.

# data[].attributes.body
A child hood memory that I remember that means a lot to me is when we first got our cats boots and mittens in 2013. We were just finishing our soccer practice it felt like it was 0 degrees but it was probably 45 degrees plus the very cold rain that had been pouring down the whole practice there wasn't any lighting. As I was walking to the car I could see my mom talking to another parent and I could see my sister a little way behind me coming up with her friend Haley. Haley's mom was telling my mom about how their cat just had a litter a couple week ago and how the mom cat was taking them out side to the back field and leaving them to die. These cats were outside cats.

My mom didn't want to leave animals to die so she said that she can take one or two. By the time I had reached the car my mom had layed down some towels so we wouldn't get the leather seat of my dads Jeep Cherokee wet. When I noticed we missed the turn to go home my mom had started to tell us about the cats. She had told us that if there were two we would take both but if there were three we would only take one. The sun had now fully set the clouds covered up the stars making it pitch black the rain had settled a bit to a light sprinkle. We had reached the house and they had opened the garage for us looking for the two cats that were here.

As soon as we entered the garage they had handed my sister a cat. It was smaller than I expected. They had explained how the cat they handed my sister was the runt and wasn't suppose to live but they feed him and kept him alive. I could see Hailey on the floor pulling some thing up from under the cabinet that was stored in the garage. As Haley was pulling out the cat there was something in its mouth it was tiny and was gray, soon there were screams heard all around the garage as the darker cat had a rat in its mouth. He had let it go and they gave the cat to me, he was bigger than the other one and his fur was darker and more shiny his paws were white, his stomach was white, but on his face unlike the other cat he had one black spot and one white spot right above his mouth where his whiskers are. We said our good byes and went to the car with the two cats and took them home. It was quite the surprise for my siblings when they saw what we brought home, my dad really didn't care about it but we know he secretly loved them.

# data[].attributes.body
The United States criminal justice system is good compared to other parts of the world, but it does have its flaws. One example is when inmates are released from incarceration. They are expected to get a job as a condition of their parole/probation or just need to get a job to support themselves. But the system is against them in this aspect. Most employers will not hire someone with a criminal record of any kind. When someone cant support themselves with a job, they are more likely to resort to crime or illegal ways to make money. I think most can agree that we hope for former inmates to learn from their past and become a productive member of society, but if their criminal record holds them back from being successful, how can that happen? An example of this from my own life is one of our family friends got arrested and convicted of vehicular homicide. He spent about 3 years in prison. When he was released, he was struggling to find any job. It was sad to see him struggle because he's a good person and a hard worker. My mom ended up advocating for him and getting him a job where she worked at the time. This is a prime example of what I mentioned previously. Our friend was trying to re enter society and got turned away from job opportunities because of a crime he had already served time for.

Another example is those who have wealth and status can get off with a slap on the wrist, when ordinary Americans would be sentenced to much more. For example, Lori Loughlin and her involvement with the college admissions scandal.  It was said she could receive 20 years in prison for her crime. She was given a plea deal for 2 months, which an ordinary person would never get. She's currently serving her 2 months and will most likely be released early for good behavior. In addition, another celebrity Felicity Huffman, paid an admissions consultant 15,000 dollars to correct her daughters SAT scores. She received 14 days in prison and a 30,000 dollar fine. 14 DAYS. FOR FRAUD. When any other normal person would receive years more.

There is also the history of injustices revolving around people of color in our criminal justice system. A prime example of this is the Central Park 5. A brief summary of the situation is a women was sexually assaulted and beaten in Central Park in 1989. Police officers brought in a group of black teenagers the youngest 14, with no reasonable cause. They were violently coerced into confessing to a crime they didn’t commit, and were convicted despite the lack of evidence. According to the Innocence Project, hair tested during the trial according to a forensic analysist was, "Similar to a reasonable degree of scientific certainty." If the hair really was one of the defendant's, it would be absolute, not similar. This only makes me wonder how this 'evidence' held up in court. Unless the prosecution and the judge had made up their mind. Their skin color was like irrefutable evidence that they were guilty. The 5 were convicted in 1990 and didn’t get released until 2012 after being proved innocent.

Like I previously mentioned, the United States criminal justice system is good compared to other parts of the world, but it has its flaws. I believe these flaws can be corrected as long as there are still people willing to stand up for what's right in order to make change.

# data[].attributes.body
I walked into the store, my hands stuffed into my pockets. I kept my head down low trying to keep a discreet profile. I quickly walked down into the drinks section. The cool air creeped into my jacket, so I tightened it around me not letting the heat escape. I went further down the aisle until I saw it. It may not look like much but my dehydration said otherwise. The bottle was clear with water inside. It sat there untouched, glimmering in the soft lights above, I swear I think I may have even seen a halo around it. My mouth watered as I inched towards it. Was I really going to do this? But I think in my head I already knew the answer to that, so why question it.  My heart pounded hard, at that rate I thought the whole store could hear it. I looked side to side, there was no one around me. I leaped forward and grabbed the water bottle. And then I ran. I ran as hard as I could out of there. I remember the vagueness of the cashiers voice yelling at me to stop, to come back here. But I couldn't I was too far gone to stop and just turn around. I kept running and running. My legs started to hurt, but it was the risk for not being caught. I stopped finally. Letting my breath finally catch up to me. It hurt to swallow, it felt like a desert in my throat nothing but dust. I quickly unattached the cap to the water bottle and drank. I drank and drank feeling the cool liquid run down my throat, it was a feeling I couldn't describe. I mean drinking water after you haven't drank anything in three days, I would say it's pretty nice. I guess I was so focused on the water that I didn't even notice the flashing lights behind me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It felt tough and muscular but the grip was so soft. I turned around quickly and gasped. Standing there was a tall man. He had bristled eyebrows that were burrowed and a rounded nose. His lips looked soft, but they were pierced in an angry motion. His skin had light lines around his face making him look around 40. But his eyes, they held something, something I couldn't quite grasp, was it a look of anger? But as he looked at me more I realized he was looking at me pitifully. I guess I could see why, my hair was knotted to the root and covered in dirt. It's usually blonde but it looked more like a brown from all the dirt. My face was covered in bruises and dirt hiding most of my skin tone. The only thing you could really see was my eyes, my eyes were the color of a sky right before sunset, not quite blue but not black either. He looked at me carefully and then sighed.

"Miss, did you steal something from the Corner Store?" He looked at me carefully, trying to decide in his head what to do with me. I looked back at him, no words came out of my mouth, I just sat there trying my best not to show too much emotion. But I failed at that, failed miserably really. My eyes started to sting and I could feel my face become a scorching hot. I tried to hold it back I really did, but the tears escaped themselves. I nestled my hands in my face trying to cover it up but it wouldn't stop. They kept flowing and coming.  At that point my hands were cupping a little sea. "Um, Miss are you okay?" I don't know why but that just made it worse. My whole body began to shake and I tried to grasp every breath that I could. I fell to my knees and buried myself even furthermore.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I said through the tears. I shook my head back and forth. "I didn't mean too. Really, it's just I don't have any money and I haven't drank anything in days." I said through gasping for air. He cocked his head to the side and stared at me.

"Look kid," He bent down on his knees to my level. "You know I used to be like you, I was living on the streets, homeless practically, and almost this same thing happened to me when I was your age,  and it was exactly a moment like this when I realized that I got to start my life. This ain't your life kid, I know it I can feel it, you got good things coming to ya, but you got to start working. People like us don't get it easy you got too work for it.  You don't have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great." I glanced at him, my reddened eyes only capable of staring. He stood up and gave me a little smile. He walked to his car and then back to me and pulled something out of his pocket. I jumped back. Was he pulling out handcuffs or even possibly, a knife? No. Instead he pulled out a folded square looking thing. I squinted my eyes, everything was still blurry from all that crying. As I looked closer I saw he pulled out a green piece of paper. Was it, money? I glanced at him wildly confused. "Here." He bent down and laid out a 100 dollar bill. One hundred dollars! I couldn't take that. I shook my head but he reached it out further to me. "Take it. Nobody can be great without even the littlest of help." I hesitated but grabbed it from his hands.

"Thank you I don't know what to say." I said in disbelief. He smiled at me and this time I could see all of his teeth. No hidden emotions, just a smile.

"Just know that when you are something great maybe give me a little shoutout."

" I don't even know your name sir." He lifted his hat at me.

"That you don’t have to know." He got up and walked to his car. He sat down into his seat and just like that he was gone. Vanished. The words echoed in my mind, be something great. I stood up and looked up to the sky. I closed my eyes and let it sink it. It echoed and echoed in my mind until I echoed it back out loud.

"I will be something great."

# data[].attributes.body
Betrayal of Purple Plastic

I was a princess. With my friends beside me, I strutted out onto the back porch in my dress and high heels. Though I don't remember much of the dress beyond that it was of the make-believe dress-up variety, those heels were something special. They were an almost transparent, sparkly purple with little butterflies adorning the straps. These heels were high-quality plastic, of course, open-toed to best fit my five-year-old feet. Or at least, that's what I thought.

As my friends and I stepped outside, we started to pose. We were here for a fashion show, after all. The mothers we were here to impress were across the backyard, examining the garden. They seemed to be assessing the damage done by the rain and wind. The yard around them was soaked and puddled, with patches of mud speckled through the green grass. At the base of the yard, tucked up against the house, was the concrete patio which was currently under construction. Bricks and mud were things I paid little mind to at the time, seeing as I was truly the star of the show here, but they were soon to come to my attention.

My group of friends and I made our way into the yard, stopping only to pick up the skirts of our dresses and pose for our imaginary adoring fans. The moment we stepped into the grass we realized that this mud wasn't suitable for our fashion show, not in the slightest. Being the astonishing little star I was, I quickly made my way over to the patio. Yes, here was where we'd set up! I could see it now. I felt so powerful in my heels and with each step I walked faster, faster, faster--

My perfect purple heels slipped in the mud. My toes slammed into the brick.

Pain. Pain. Pain. It was sharp and sudden and fast. I had never quite felt searing pain like this before, and I'm almost certain I'll never feel anything like it again. I don't want to feel anything like it again. It was hot needles and flaming thorns, it was sharp shards of glass and fireworks. I fell onto the patio, tears streaming down my face. Fashion shows and performances were the furthest thing from my mind as the mothers rushed over to help me. I was crying out of shock and pain and surprise, my vision blurring with tears as they sat me in a chair and went to get my dad.

As I sat there, legs dangling above the bricks, I felt my heartbeat throb in my toes. In an attempt to console me, one of the mothers sat down before me and tried to speak words of wisdom and comfort.

"You're so brave," she assured me. "You're so very brave. Just breathe. It'll be okay."

At this point, the pain was easing a little. I just wanted to go home.

It was in that moment, that brief pause of calm, when she said it.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes darting from my tearstained face to my foot. "Just don't look down."

I hadn't up until that point even thought to look down to the source of the pain. In my mind, I thought I had only stubbed my toe. I never thought, never even considered, there would be so much blood.

One of my toenails was shattered. Red was streaming down my foot and dripping onto the brick. It was in that moment that I stopped crying out of pain or out of shock. It was then that I started crying out of terror and fear. This was the first real injury I'd ever experienced, or at least the first real one which I can care to recall. I didn't know I could hurt this much. I didn't know I could bleed this much.

When my dad finally came from next door, he found me a sobbing, bleeding mess. I was so happy to see him, though, and I gladly let him carry me away from the bricks and mud.

To be perfectly honest, I don't remember much else. After witnessing my injury, the rest of my time without a toenail is a blur. I'd like to think I was treated like a princess, drowning in ice cream and comforted by the pages of my favorite books. Beyond that, though, I'm forever wary of high heels and purple plastic, and am sure to tread carefully whenever I'm around mud.

In general, "don't look down" can be good advice. However, when told to a child, it's absolutely not. When told to be quiet, a child will scream. When told to hold still, a child will squirm. When told not to look down? Well. On that day, I looked down.

And what I saw was purple plastic stained red.

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My family mean so much to me because at a young age they would help me with math and other things but more importantly I could have died without them. So a little back story my tonsils and adenoids were huge and the same size so first problem was I got sick easily second I only had 25%of my air way so when I would sleep I would stop breathing but my parents would stay by my side and sit me up so I could breath. Eventually I started dry coughing too but at that point we had already scheduled an appointment to get them removed, they would have stayed by my side the whole time if they could have but they weren't allowed in the operating room. But when I came back they wouldn’t leave my side until I was better I had to stay home from school for 2-3 weeks I thing but they would constantly check on me to see if I was okay and needed anything. I know my family loves me ,and I love them back for everything they’ve done to keep me alive right now there trying not to lose me to covid but I know that they will have it all figured out.

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When I was 7 years old, me and one of my friends had a great idea. We didn't think about the consequences, we just simply did it.

He told me excitedly, "We should cut down my cherry tree." Great idea right? Think of all the amazing things that could come from it. Think of the adventure! We thought of all the things we would need to get. So, we decided to go to his garage to find the tools and get to work.

You may be thinking wow! That’s a great idea, I should try it with my friends. What I say is no NEVER try it, especially if you have no tools and no idea how to start. We decided to get an axe from his garage. We looked for like two minutes and couldn't find it. So, we decided to make our own. This is where the trouble started. We found a stick that looked about the right size to we grabbed that. Then we grabbed a stone, and I know what you're thinking, how did you find a sharp enough stone? The answer was, (drumroll please) we didn't. That’s right.

I said to him, "I found a rock!" And that was it. It was a completely round stone. You may be thinking, why would you think that this would work? The answer is, because we where seven.

"How did you make an axe our of these things?" you may ask. The answer was bubble gum. That’s right, two packs of bubble gum. The reason why we tried this was because the day before we saw a looney tunes where bugs bunny got stuck in gum, so we though it must be strong. It in fact, wasn't. We chewed up the gum and stuck the rock to the stick. We swung it at the tree once, completely missed and the rock went flying and made a dent in their door. We thought, oh well, not our problem. So, we decided to break off the branches first because we saw people do that to a tree not that long ago. I was the better climber so I went up to the top.

I sat on the end of the branch, held onto the one branch above and stood up. I decided that the easiest way to get the branch off the tree was to jump on it. I saw my friend looking from me, to the branch, and to the ground. I counted 3, 2, 1, and I jumped. He was biting his lip the whole time and when I jumped, he must of bit it harder and a bubble of blood came from his lip. Well, I was so focused on that, that I didn't realize the branch was breaking. Since I was at the end, when it broke I had nothing to stand on. I heard a SNAP! The twig above me broke to, so I fell to the ground. I tried to use my hands to break my fall. Oh how could I be soooooo stupid. I felt like my wrists got hit by the rock, not the door. I yelped a cry of pain and passed out. I woke up a couple of seconds later feeling something hitting my side. I groaned and looked up. I saw the my friend was kicking me.

Through the tears and pain I asked, "Why are you kicking me?"

He said "I thought you where dead." He went to get my parents and they took me to the hospital. I had a pretty bad sprained wrist. So the moral of the story is… I don't know. Maybe don't be dumb? Maybe don't cut down trees? Or maybe have adult supervision and ask them before you do something.