The Winchendon School
2025-2026 Edition I, Volume I
Editors: Morgan Pang
JoAnn Pellecchia Kayley Irvine Katherine Duncan
James Harrington
Table of Contents: Short Stories: The Origins of Crystal
A Modern Adaptation of Frankenstein Wapiti Weather The Boy And A Mission Resident Tormentor Growing Up Through the Game A Day in the Life of Winch Hockey Girls The Beginning of Time
Poems: From Dirt to the Dream Whispers in the Woods A Wapiti Kid Poem Ode to Winchendon Bum Diddley Oh Poem of Repent Pet Moose Haiku The Shadows Haiku Reflections Haiku The TWS Hockey Poem New Beginnings Beliefs Life of a Woman
Visuals: Pictures
Fragile Ice Lake Painting Wrath of the Titans Color Crowd My Home Snowy Scene Wapiti Hockey Sonoma
Videos/Audios: Why I Like Traveling I Wanted More Puck Shots Perfect Gift
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The Origins of Crystal – Morgan Pang In the beginning, there was nothing on Earth. Then there was something, me. And with me came the forests, the oceans, the deserts, the snowy tundras, hills being formed. I walked around a bit, my robes billowing in the wind. My gold staff gleaming brightly. Then my mind felt a tugging sensation. I turned to see another being, floating around like he didn't need to walk, and he was destroying the newly made forests. This made me angry, and so I walked over to face him. He turned when he sensed me coming. He was almost pure black, with purple energy flowing around him. He was wearing a black chest plate with a black helmet to match. His helmet had a crescent like what you will now a days call scorpion pincer. He held a sword of pure blackness, it was carved and blazing with purple flames. He gave an evil grin, showing his sharp gold glowing jaws. "Stop this madness!" I commanded. He just stared and laughed. "Not a chance.' He responded, 'I will show this world my wrath." I began to get mad. "I am God Father, ruler of these lands, protector of this world." The other being just laughed. "Well, I am Ovalore. Conqueror of this world, soon to be ruler overall." He raised his sword, ready for a fight. I raised my staff, ready to block his attack. We battled for many years before I could defeat him, but I eventually wore him out. "I will not be defeated!" He shouted. "Well, it's time to change your living space." I responded. I willed the earth to rise, covering Ovalore. I blasted fire, sprayed water, and focused air all towards him in the rock. I willed the earth to pull Ovalore down, the other elements empowering it. "This isn't the last of me! I shall return!" He yelled this, and I'd hoped it would've been the last thing he said. After he sank beneath the surface, to make sure he stayed there, I will a mountain to spawn. I rose to the top, building a beautiful palace. I made a statue of myself. Then I changed its gender to be female and brought her to life. My wife, God Mother. For many years, we lived in the palace, on a mountain with no name. She eventually was pregnant with a child, and I thought we would live happy. Then he rose again. Out of ground came Ovalore, now with a double torso wearing gold and black armor, his blade was now double sided. He cackled as he rose surrounded by crystals which he created. "I shall conquer you this time. For I am now The Crystal King!" He blasted his dark magic, blasting me and God Mother across the world. We went into hiding, and our son was born. We named him Massia, and I knew he'd be our savior. I sent him over to the old mountain, disguised as one of those monsters. He came back and told me that the mountain was now called Mount Crystal, and that Ovalore had created a whole species of what he called Onikye. I told my son to keep spying on the Titans, then we would attack later. After many years, we attacked. I had changed my staff into a bronze naginata, and I fought Ovalore while Massia fought Ovalore's son, Wolverine, the Crystal Prince. Massia eventually killed Wolverine and I defeated Ovalore, banishing him to a realm of void with floating islands. After this, Ovalore's daughter, Regia, the Crystal Princess, who didn't participate in the battle, was grieving over the fact that she would never have a child. She explained that no other Titan would mate with her, and so I took pity, and gave a child to bore. Her son was named Wither, and with his half-brother Massia, they would journey very far. However, the last thing Ovalore left was the crystals which he had formed. They had impaled God Mother and killed her. I went into a fit of rage. I destroyed my palace up on the mountain and went into solitude.
Millions of years later, another god eventually washed up on the shore. He called himself Trident, and he had natural abilities over water and air. For my two sons, I made two swords that were in the shape of what you would call a key. This was what gave them their powers. Massia got creation, Wither got death. Massia then decided to create one for Trident, it was powerless but a nice thought. One day, I was walking, and Wither stabbed me in the back with a dagger that was made from amethyst. That mineral had many similar properties to Ovalore's crystals. My physical form died, but my spirit lives on. After that incident, Massia was mad at Wither, but since Massia found the body and Wither was nowhere to be found, Trident thought it was Massia. Massia attacked Trident for this, then Trident found out that it was Wither and tried to apologize to Massia. Massia just thought that Trident was being overpowered. Those three never got along since. After Massia created and married Pandora, each of the three gods made their own lineage of gods and goddesses. They all made a council made up of some from each lineage. However, there were many quarrels, for the gods would never all get along.
A Modern Adaptation of Frankenstein – Genevive Jean-Charles This is a modern adaptation of the 1818 novel by Mary Shelley, Frankenstein. Frankenstein is a novel about a man named Victor Frankenstein who creates an artificial being and brings it to life. After he is horrified by the beings appearance, he abandons him. The creature was actually intelligent and a good person but people would never accept him due to his appearance despite his efforts to become adjusted in society. This leads to a series of issues concerning resentment, vengeance, and guilt that the creature and Victor continuously deal with throughout the novel. My adaptation is a first person narrative from the creation. It is set in the modern day and the issues that the creation deals with represent that. The two main characters in this adaptation are Victor and the creation and their personalities are similar to the ones they had in the novel. They also get along similar to the way they did in the novel. This short story is meant to highlight the “monster's” struggles by including the themes of familial belonging, societal belonging, vengeance, and acceptance. It also highlights Victor’s issues with guilt, abandonment, and avoidance. The overall moral here is the importance of belonging and the responsibility that must come with creation. - Author’s note I am malicious because I am miserable. I am shunned and hated by everyone, and loved by no-one. Why was it me who was born like this? Today I will get revenge on the father who abandoned me. I will ruthlessly murder him. He deserves it. See, I’m not supposed to be here. I was created in 2003 from a famous and very risky lab experiment led by a man named Victor Frankenstein. The purpose of it was to test out a new genetic creating material he made called “CRUNCHER 84.” It was intended to create a new race of humans. The new race of humans were meant to be stronger, taller, more attractive and smarter. Many scientists heavily advised him to not carry out the experiment, saying that it would be dangerous, unethical, and have serious consequences. He should have listened. Victor must’ve discarded me because I was found in the woods at night by a man who was hiking. The man had started gathering attention from others, claiming that he had found a new species. Somehow I was turned into the police and they were confused about what kind of creature I was. Scientists ran tests on me and declared me human. After that I was placed in foster care. I eventually saw an article from 2004 written by Victor Frankenstein where he discussed what happened to his experiment, saying that it failed and that the first being he made was hideous and unsuitable for life in all areas; and that it had apparently died shortly after it was born. I constantly suffer from an undiagnosable chronic pain that affects my joints, because of this, I walk with a cane. Growing up in foster care, I do not know what it is like to be loved, either unconditionally, or at all. People have not been kind to me. My foster parents would look at me with disgust and banish me to my room often. Some of my foster families wouldn’t allow me to be outside of my bedroom, others wouldn’t feed me regularly, some would physically abuse me for reasons I wouldn’t understand, all did not treat me with any kindness or compassion. Life at school was even worse. The boys would bully me, the girls never picked me. Nobody wanted to be around me. I tried to be smart, athletic, and talented, in hopes that they would all see beyond my appearance. I was always top of my class, I excelled in all kinds of music and art, I became exceptional in science, and I was also great on the robotics team. I was very innovative and my robots won our team many awards; this still did not earn their respect though. I am good with words and I am proficient in literature. I thought they would want to speak to me more if I spoke well. I even tried to join sports despite my chronic illness. I failed at that though. I tried to start my own clubs but nobody would ever join. I tried to be better looking. I would do odd jobs to afford skincare products and nicer clothes. That didn’t work and eventually my foster parents would make me give them my earned money. No matter what I did nobody would so much as tolerate me. I was alone and abandoned. Strangers were particularly harsh to me. They would stare, mock me, throw things at me, curse at me, and hit me. I would also often be asked to leave public spaces like cafes, libraries, and stores, because I would “cause an unsafe and disturbing environment.” People would so much as look at me and get angry. I figured that if I went to university, life would be better. I would finally be accepted. College is supposed to be an accepting place where people find themselves. My college application was superb. I had a more than sufficient amount of volunteer hours, a GPA of 4.2, I had joined and excelled in many clubs, I wrote a spectacular college essay, and I had a perfect SAT score. I was sure some colleges would accept me. However, whenever I would go to an interview they would look horrified. I applied to 30 colleges, and all of them said, “We are looking for someone who suits our school's presentation better.” The summer after I graduated high school, I was devastated and angry at the world and all of humanity. I realized that summer that I will never be accepted or loved because I was born this way.
Even at birth I was denied the unconditional love that everyone else receives from their parents. I am a failed lab experiment, and I will always be someone who is not meant to be. I am now nineteen and it has been a year since I graduated. I have been homeless ever since I outgrew foster core. Despite all of my advanced skills and immense efforts I am denied sustainable jobs, university experiences, community colleges, and a proper social life. I am bitter, resentful, and have a lot of hate in my heart for others. The world is a cruel place. I recently decided to do something truly horrid. I am going to get revenge, and end this terrible life of mine. I did a deep search on the internet and managed to get the address of Victor Frankenstein’s home. As of right now I am outside of this address, hiding in the bushes. I plan to ruthlessly murder Victor, then kill myself too. I have been writing this memoir as I wait here plotting my revenge so that people can know why I did it and understand. I see Victor now. He is coming out the backdoor of his house and going into his backyard. I think he is going to tend to his garden because he is holding gardening supplies. He looks quite haggard. He is pale, quite thin, and has bags under his eyes. He must not have much time to care for himself. It is good that he is weak though, it will make carrying out my plan much easier. I decided I will murder him by stabbing him to death. A cruel fate. He will die mercilessly by the consequences of his own actions. At first I waited for a little while, some part of me was questioning if I was capable of carrying out such an act. However, after recalling this terrible life of mine, I knew it was deserved. I jumped over his fence and tackled Victor. He immediately started struggling but after I held a knife to his throat, he stopped. I looked him in the eyes. He had a shocked expression on his face. He seemed startled and confused. He started to look at me intently and then asked, “Are you my creation?” I had then yelled at him rather callously. I took out all of my life's resentment on that man, from the bullying, to the foster home, to the abandonment, and to the source of it all, my risky and unethical creation. I then realized that I wasn’t holding the knife at his throat anymore and that I had actually made myself vulnerable; I was in tears. Victor looked at me with a solemn expression. He then asked, “Why don't you come inside.” I did not kill Victor Frankenstein. As I sat on his couch I observed Victor's home. It was tidy and a little empty. The home seemed to be arranged simply for the convenience of him. There were only two chairs at his kitchen table, there was no tv, and the living room only contained a nightstand, a small couch, and a medium sized circular rug. There was hardly any furniture. After a little while he took a chicken out of the oven that he must've already been cooking for a little while before I came. He asked if I wanted to sit and eat with him; I agreed. I think part of me had actually wanted to get to know him. As I spoke to him over dinner that day I realized that he is just as sentient as I. He is a reasonable man, and he did truly feel guilt for his actions. I have not forgiven him, and I never will, but I understand him. He told me that when he first created me, after looking at me he knew I would not be accepted by society and that I would be subject to a life of alienation. He was also terrified of what people would think of him, and because of this he left me to die in the woods. He has been haunted by his actions ever since. He told me about how has lived in his guilt ever since he abandoned me. He felt undeserving of love and also abandoned all of his family because of it. Victor has lost many people in his lifetime and he lives in constant shame, often taking it out on himself by becoming isolated. He prefers to be alone for he feels undeserving of love and connection. As I connected with him I realized that we have both lived a life feeling like we don’t belong and don't deserve people. He says that after his experiment with me failed, he never pursued gene editing or creation again. He became an environmental scientist instead. He spends a lot of time in nature, and has actually worked very hard on the garden that I had destroyed by attempting to murder him. He told me that it would have been within my rights to murder him and part of him wishes that I actually did so he could be released from his shame. It has been a few weeks since that day and I now reside in Victor’s home, I have my own room here. Victor offered me an internship alongside him at his work since I am so skilled in STEM. We share a lot of qualities, we are both reserved, philosophical people who love science and long for belonging. He says he is proud of me, and I do not deserve the life I have been brought. We keep each other company and I am glad I have someone to finally resonate with. Though I will forever deal with the disapproval of people, I now have someone who appreciates me. I live with hope now.
Pictures – Bart Bolander
Flower exhibit: Chiostro del Bramante, Rome
Friend beneath Beckett quote: Chiostro del Bramante, Rome
Street mural: Piazza Conca d'Oro, Rome
From Dirt to the Dream – Tommy Lane I grew up where the fields were cracked, Where gloves were hand me downs, And baseballs had more tape than leather. We didn't have fancy cages or lights Just a busted fence, a dream, And the sound of hope hitting the bat. People used to laugh when I said “I'm going to the league one day” They’d say, “Kid no one here makes it out. Division three at most.” But I kept swinging away, Kept running the bases in my mind, when the real Ones were covered in weeds. Then came the call from the Winchendon School. A prep school hours away, better fields, better Gear, a new world where every kid was great. At first he felt small just a kid from dracut mass Trying to prove that he belonged at this place. They had new bats and private coaches. I
had
grit…
And sometimes grit is all you need. I missed dracut the smell of the dusty Fields and sound of my family cheering From behind a chain linked fence. But Every swing, every sprint was for them. For the little kids I taught how to play, But most importantly for cathay Lee, A grandma that is looking down everyday. They dubbed me my whole life Said I'd fade like the others. But I turned doubt into fire, Pressure into a purpose. Now, when I step on the Field I carry my hometown
With me and every love but also hate And one day I'm going to make it, And when I do is when I will go back To where it all began and will make Every kid to play more then just high school Ball and make lights that will never fade, So the kids can play forever. I will tell every kid Who stands where I once stood, “It doesn't matter where you're from, it matters how far you are willing to run those dirty weeded bases”. Because I am living proof That even from little dracut Massachusetts, you can always Swing your way into the Biggest dream. I am Tommy Lane and I will make it.
Whispers in the Woods – Dylan Duato
The morning fog drifts low, Whispering secrets that only the pines know. Elk step softly on the ground Their quiet calls the only sound Golden leaves swirl in a playful dance, Sunlight breaks through with a glance. The creek hums a song both old and true, It's easy to hear nature's heartbeat pulsing through I pause and breathe the forest in deep, A world awakens while the rest of the town sleeps. For in these woods, I feel at home, Among the wapiti, wild and free to roam.
Fragile – Sora Komatsu
I created this drawing using pastel on a 24x36 inch paper. It shows a cold, fragile woman being gently supported by a comforting skeletal hand. I wanted to highlight the contrast between the human figure, which gives a cold and lifeless impression, and the skeleton, which is usually seen as a symbol of death but appears
warm instead. The woman seems to live in despair but she is quietly helped by an unexpected warmth. The red liquid flowing from her eyes and face represents the pain she has been holding inside, finally spilling out as she is embraced by that warmth. I tried to express how compassion can exist in unexpected forms, and how appearances can sometimes hide the opposite emotion.
Why I Like Traveling – Anonymous
A Wapiti Kid Poem – Grayson Loos
On the hill up Ash Street The old golf course Simple brick buildings The productive students in the classroom Or in the Rottenburg Gymnasium All wrapped by the fall foliage The winter coming quickly Soon there will be snow everywhere And the pond will be frozen over But short followed the snow will begin to melt The grass will turn green And people will be playing spike ball everywhere you look
Wapiti Weather – Georges Vergnion The first cold morning of November always hits differently at Winchendon. The rink sits on the far edge of campus like a frozen breath, its roof collecting a thin layer of fog that makes the whole building look half-alive. I was walking to first period with my hood up and earbuds in, pretending the cold wasn’t slicing right through my jacket. Rink weather. The kind of cold that feels honest. On mornings like that, the world is quiet in a way people rarely are—steady, still, and simple. Like the ice right before the first blade cuts into it. Then the bell rings, and everything starts moving too fast again. I wasn’t late that morning, but I felt late. Not to class—late to everything else. Assignments piling up, practices filling the evenings, games coming quickly, pressure building quietly. Conversations with teammates felt rushed, like everyone was just skating past each other instead of talking. I kept saying I was fine, because that’s what I’m supposed to be: steady, calm, the one who doesn’t wobble. When I walked into the academic building, the noise hit me like a surprise hit against the boards—lockers slamming, backpacks thudding, laughter bouncing down the hallway. A couple players nodded at me. “You ready for practice later?” “You good?” “Big week coming.” I smiled, nodded, said what I always say: “Yeah. All good.” But inside, it felt like a blizzard. In class, I kept tapping my pencil against the desk—sharp, rhythmic, like tapping my stick on the ice before a faceoff. The math problems blurred, the teacher’s voice faded, and all I could think was how fast everything felt. I wondered what would happen if I told someone the truth. If I said, *Actually, no. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I feel like I’m skating uphill.* But instead, I kept tapping. After lunch, I went to the rink early. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to pretend. I wanted cold air and the sound of blades carving fresh ice. The locker room was empty when I walked in—just the hum of lights and the faint smell of sharpened steel. I laced up and stepped onto the ice, and for the first time all day, the world made sense. Skating has always been the one language I don’t have to translate. I don’t have to act or explain or smile. I just move. Glide, breathe, turn. Glide, breathe, turn. The scrape of my blades was the only rhythm that felt real. About ten minutes in, the door to the rink clanged shut. I didn’t turn, but I knew who it was by the way the air shifted. The coach always enters quietly but notices everything. After a moment of watching, a voice echoed across the ice: “Your edges look off.” I circled around. “Long day.” “It’s not even three yet.” I didn’t answer. Coaches always seem to know when a player is pretending. Maybe because they’ve lived through their own pretending. A puck slid across the ice toward me. “Take a shot.” I lined up and fired. Wide. “Again.” I shot again. Crossbar. “Again.” This one hit the back of the net clean. There was a quiet pause before the voice came again. “You don’t have to hold the whole season on your back.” The words hit harder than any check.
I hadn’t told anyone how heavy everything felt. I hadn’t said a word about the pressure, the expectations, the fear of letting people down. But somehow, it was written in my stride, my shoulders, my breathing. A gloved hand landed lightly on my shoulder. “Pressure’s part of the game. But so is the pass. Let your team help you.” It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t emotional. But something inside me loosened—something that had been pulled tight for weeks. That night, when someone asked if I was good, I didn’t fall back on the automatic answer. I didn’t say “I’m fine.” I said, “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed.” And instead of brushing it off, they nodded and said, “Yeah. I get that.” We ended up talking in a way we never had before—open, real, not just the usual locker-room stuff. The next morning, the fog was still hanging low over the campus, stretching across the grass like a blanket. But it didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt calm, almost comforting, like the whole place was breathing with me instead of against me. I’m starting to understand something: being a Wapiti athlete doesn’t mean being perfect. It doesn’t mean being the fastest or the toughest or the one who never shows weakness. Sometimes it means showing up tired. Sometimes it means admitting you’re struggling. And sometimes it means letting someone skate beside you when your legs feel shaky. The cold mornings still come—they always will. But they don’t feel as lonely now. Because I finally stopped pretending the weather inside me wasn’t real. And once I said it out loud, the storm didn’t seem so impossible anymore.
Ice Lake Painting – Luke Diana
Ode to Winchendon – Katie Wyman
The Winchendon School is a happy place to be, with a very welcoming community for all. Going to The Winchendon School is finding the key, doing activities from the morning to nightfall. From the sports to the arts the opportunities are endless, giving a space for all peoples to feel connected. Here creatively flows in ways that are truly boundless, The kindness and spirit of all are beautifully reflected. To the mascot, to the kids, the student section is always cheering, encouraging everyone to try there every day. There school pride is never disappearing, their voices echo as the teams go play. Our passions shine, our futures burning bright, At The Winchendon School, each day feels right.
The Boy And A Mission – Jackson Smail, Thomas Sibley, and Jake West Once upon a time there was a kid named Trevor and all he wanted was a new hockey stick for christmas. There was an issue though, his parents didn't have enough money to even pay for him to play hockey much more get him all the gear and all the gas money to drive him to practices. His parents sat him down and told him that unfortunately they didn't have the money to get him a hockey stick and even though he understood he was very sad about it and couldn't stop thinking about it for the next couple days. Eventually he thought to himself, what if I got a job so that I could pay for a stick and maybe even gear so that I could play. He was only 14 though so he couldn't drive and getting a job would be tough, especially in the state he lived in. He wasn't even old enough to work. The next day he woke up early for school and looked out the window and saw that it had snowed like crazy overnight. He looked around the neighborhood and saw his neighbor and older lady shoveling her driveway. He walked downstairs and told his parents he didn't have time to eat breakfast because he had to help their neighbor shovel her driveway before he got on the school bus. His parents laughed at him though and he didn't realize why at first but then they said “it's a snowy day you can go back to bed and sleep in”. He didn't want to sleep in though he wanted to help his neighbor and potentially get some money out of it. He got his snow pants and coat on, and walked over to her house with his shovel. Once he got there he told her “it's okay ill shovel your driveway for you, I have a snow day” she thanked him and told him that her back was hurting really bad so this was a big help. He shoveled her whole driveway. It took him only 10 minutes because she had a very small driveway. Once he was done he started walking back to his house but then he heard “wait” the lady had come out of her house to thank him and she even gave him 50 dollars for helping him. That's when it hit him he could shovel all his neighbors driveways and make enough money to get a hockey stick or even all the gear. He had the whole day off so he brought the money up to his room and then set back out to the next neighbors house. He had a total of 15 houses in his neighborhood. However some of them were already cleared off, or had help. So on he went, the first house was all set. The second house was all set. The third house was all set and on and on and on. All the houses were cleared off. What was Trevor going to do? He only had $50, which wasn't even close to enough to buy a stick, they are $400. At the 15th house he noticed an old man struggling to get down the stairs to get to his car. He ran up to the old man and asked to help clear his steps and shovel his driveway. The old man replied “Yes that would be a great help, I just had knee surgery and am unable to get down the stairs with all the snow on them.” Trevor replied “Yes I would love to”... And so he went shoveling his whole steps. As he was about to leave the old man asked if he liked to play hockey. As he was about to leave, the old man asked if Trevor could wait just a moment. He disappeared back into the house, moving slowly but deliberately. Trevor stood at the bottom of the steps, snowflakes landing on his coat, wondering if maybe the man was going to offer him a few dollars, anything would help. After a minute, the old man returned, holding not cash, but a long, narrow bag. Trevor recognized the shape very quickly. His heart nearly stopped. “You know,” the old man said,“I used to play hockey back when I was your age. I even went on to coach my sons. But my skating days are long gone, and this… well, this has just been sitting in my closet for years. Seems to me it should go to someone who’ll actually use it.” He handed the bag to Trevor. Trevor unzipped it, Inside was a brand new hockey stick, exactly the kind he had seen online, the kind he knew cost far more than he’d ever be able to save in one snowy day. “For me?” Trevor said, “For helping an old man who couldn’t get down his own stairs,” the old replied with a smile. “But only on one condition.” Trevor said “What’s that?”
“You play your heart out. And someday, when you’re older and see a kid who needs a hand… you pass on the kindness.” Trevor nodded, “I will. I promise.” He thanked the old man again and again, then ran home through the snow, holding the hockey stick close like it was made of gold. When he flew through the front door, his parents were shocked, first by the stick, then by the story that followed. From that
day on, everything changed. He practiced every free moment he could, on the street, on the pond, at the rink when he could find open ice time. The stick became more than a piece of equipment, it was a promise. A reminder. A mission. He played with heart, just like the old man had asked. And slowly, people noticed. First it was his school Coach, then a local travel team who offered him a scholarship spot. From then on Junior leagues, Scouts, and other coaches talked about him. Reporters asked about the kid's crazy work ethic. 10 years later One night, after a long thought playoff game under bright Arena lights and roaring fans, Trevor skated across the NHL rank in front of 20,000 people. He had just scored the winning goal in overtime, securing his team's place in the finals. But what everyone remembered most wasn't the goal, It was what happened afterwards. Down by the tunnel, waiting for him with wide eyes and a nervous smile, was his own son, 8 years old, hockey crazy, and holding a tiny homemade sign that read go Dad. Trevor skated over. He reached into his hands and lifted his latest game stick, the one he used to score the OT winner. “Come here bud”, Trevor said, kneeling so he was eye level. His son stuffed closer, eyes shining. “You were an amazing Dad! That goal was crazy!” Trevor smiles, then holds the stick out toward him. “This is for you.” His son froze “For me? Really?” Trevor nodded. “But only on one condition.” That you play your heart out. and one day, when you're older, if you see a kid who needs help you pass on the kindness. For a moment, the boy said nothing. Then he wrapped his arms around his father. “I will, dad,’ he whispered. ‘I promise.” And somewhere in the crowd, somewhere in the noise and lights and celebration, Trevor thought of the old man and the snowy morning when everything began early. The mission had come full circle And the kindness lived on.
– Jackson Smail, Thomas Sibley, and Jake West
Wrath of the Titans – Dora Yun
I Wanted More – Anonymous
Bum Diddley Oh – Morgan Pang Lyrics: Barnes Boffey Music: Bob Love
Bum diddley oh, hey hi ho, hey hi ho, hey-This is another quite wonderful day. Sunshine is flooding the earth, and-- oh, boy It lights up beauty for all to enjoy. Hear chanticleer “cock-a-doodling” on, Telling the nighttime it’s time to be gone. Forget your yesterdays, live what is now-Isn’t life wonderful, golly, and how! I can’t express it so I’ve got to say Bum diddley oh hey hi ho hey hi ho hey-Bum diddley oh hey hi ho hey.
Bum diddley oh, hey hi ho, hey hi ho, hey-Lead every hour in a joyous new way; Don’t take on life with a feeling of gloom-Let it take wings, stand aside, give it room. Throw out your arms and then fling out your chest, Bust all the buttons on that tight old vest. You’ll just get ulcers if worry’s your mate, Follow your dream, and please don’t break the date. Give it a try and you’ll find it will pay-Bum diddley oh hey hi ho hey hi ho hey-Bum diddley oh hey hi ho hey.
Bum diddley oh, hey hi ho, hey hi ho, hey. English shout “Pip, pip!” the Spanish “Ole!” Hippies say “Know your bag, do your own thing”-Joy is the monarch, so “Long Live the King!”-Russians say “Tovarisch,” Vikings say ”Skol!” Irish say “Brravo” with that Irish roll. “Viva” or “Bene” or just “Down the hatch!” If you’re not linguist, then here is the catch, All of the world will respond if you say, “Bum diddley oh hey hi ho hey hi ho hey-Bum diddley oh hey hi ho hey!”
Song from my summer camp: Lanakila.
Resident Tormentor – James Sanford The story that I’m about to tell you is one of the most traumatic occurrences that I’ve ever been through, and it has required a lot of therapy for me to mentally process this. My name is Charlotte, and this happened to me when I was twenty-six years old. Years ago, I had a lord who was unhinged and disturbed, and he stole a lot of my belongings from me. I had been in a difficult financial situation and I was constantly moving from house to house because I had difficulty paying my rent. I also did not have any friends or family members who could help me, and I had a turbulent relationship with my parents. I was living in West Hampton, Long Island, and I couldn’t afford to move anywhere else. Around this time, I found and rented a cottage near a beach in with a landlord named Sean. To me, the house looked decent enough for a cheap price, and after applying to rent the house, Sean gave me the keys. Late one night, I arrived for the first time, unpacked my stuff, and went to sleep. However, upon entering the house, a horrible smell of mold instantly hit me. This caught me off guard since the pictures of the house made it appear very clean and maintained. I took a tour of the house, and I saw how dirty and rundown the place looked on the inside. I instantly grew suspicious of Sean since he obviously lied to me about the condition of the house. However, I soon brushed it off and decided that I didn’t want to deal with it that night. I was very tired, and it was very late at night. About a week later, after I got home from work, I heard a knock on the door. When I opened it, Sean greeted me. I said “hello,” and he immediately shoved past me and began inspecting the house. He was searching all over the place, and I wondered why he showed upso suddenly and was searching so urgently. This was also the first time I was actually able to see Sean clearly since it was very dark the first night when he came with the keys. He was middle-aged, bald, and smelled like alcohol. He said that he wanted to “make sure everything was in its right place, and that the house was in good shape.” I felt very confused and began to feel uncomfortable because of his abrupt arrival and erratic behavior. Over the course of the next few weeks, Sean began acting more suspicious and controlling about the house. He told me that the basement was completely off-limits, and that I even had to have the basement door sealed off with tape. He said that he had a lot of personal items and belongings down there that he did not want anyone “tampering with or breaking.” At first, this made me feel slightly suspicious about what he was doing in the basement. However, I soon brushed it off and assumed that he only wanted privacy. Before sealing the door shut, I noticed that the horrible smell lingering throughout the house was coming from the basement. Being a naturally curious person, I couldn’t help but wonder what Sean was hiding in the basement and why he was this adamant about the basement needing to be sealed off. Sean continued to come to the house unannounced and let himself in. This made me feel very uncomfortable and uneasy as he always did this without my consent and because of how menacing he was about the order of everything when he inspected the house. Sean was crossing a lot of boundaries, and I was getting a lot of red flags from his behavior. However, nothing prepared me for how much worse his behavior became over time. One morning, I woke up to loud knocking on the door. I got up, opened the door, and Sean greeted me. He said that he wanted to check to make sure the boiler was functioning properly, and he then nudged past me. This time that he showed up was different. After checking the boiler, he came up from the basement, and he wouldn’t leave. He kept staring at me, and after a moment, he broke the silence, and said in a low, eerie tone, “Oh Charlotte, you’re so beautiful. I never want to leave you.” He then started touching my hair, and he even tried to hug me. At this moment, I’d hadenough of his inappropriate behavior, and I put my foot down. I pushed his hand away and told him that he needed to leave, and that he needed to stop being intrusive. In response, he said in a disappointed tone, “Wow! I didn’t know it was like that,” and left without saying another word. Sean’s inappropriate and threatening behavior didn’t stop. After a few months of living in that house, I began to notice my furniture and other belongings going missing. When I notified Sean about this, he said that everything he took had actually belonged to him, and that I was the one who stole it. This made no sense to me at all because I was the rightful owner of all of the furniture. He was completely delusional. Sean was no longer only crossing boundaries, he was downright harassing me. My anxiety and fear of Sean became worse after this, and I was constantly filled with stress and anxiety about his behavior. I immediately took this to the police, and I was shocked about how unhelpful they were at the station. They completely dismissed my story, and said that I’d “just better off moving out of the house.” They even refused to investigate my case or question Sean. Another day, I noticed that one of my shelves was missing, and when I called Sean, he once again claimed to have owned the shelf. I reported this to the police again, but they still expressed no care or concern for my situation. They even believed Sean when he lied to them that everything he took belonged to him. Everyday of living in that house was frightening and anxiety provoking for me, and at one point, I tried to take the case to court. I came with evidence about Sean’s actions, yet he pleaded not guilty and the case was soon dismissed. After this, I gave up begging the law to help me since I knew that neither the police nor the jury would help me at all against Sean. The thought that I was stuck with an unhinged landlord who was harassing me and stealing from me, and that I had no one to help me made my experience living in that house all the more psychologically traumatic. I also became continuously more curious and suspicious about what Sean was doing in the basement. It didn’t make sense to me how strict and unyielding he was about the basementbeing off limits, and how secretive he was about what was down there. Every day, I would pass by the sealed basement door, morbidly curious about what horrible deeds he may have been doing there. One morning, I woke up and was going to ride bikes to the beach with my friend to get my mind off of the situation with Sean. I excitedly went outside and opened the garage, but to my horror, my bike was missing. I searched the entire property for my bike, but it was nowhere to be found. At that moment, I realized that it must have been Sean who stole it from me. I immediately called my friend and told her that my bike was stolen, and that I wouldn’t be able to make it. After this, I called Sean and confronted him. He once again tried to blame me, and he tried to say that the bike belonged to him. Suddenly, I became consumed with rage at Sean for constantly stealing my belongings and harassing me, and I started screaming over the phone at him about how much of a terrible person he was. Surprisingly, he started yelling back at me, and he began gaslighting me and saying how I had been an “evil criminal” who did nothing but steal and get away with it. I’d had enough with Sean, and I decided to move out of the house to get away from him. Later, I began packing my stuff up, and I was eager to leave that house. The night that I left, curiosity got the better of me regarding what was in the basement. For some reason, I also felt that I was being watched that night. I can’t describe the feeling, but something did not feel right. Nonetheless, I pulled the tape off of the basement door and opened it. The second I opened it, the terrible smell of mold once again hit me, stronger than ever this time. I walked down the stairs into a dank, cold room with boxes and old furniture everywhere. I began to slowly walk through each of the rooms, closely examining the old desks and items. I walked into the room in the corner of the basement, and I was extremely disturbed by what I found inside. There were bags of old furniture lying on the floor, marked with names on them. I did notunderstand whose names they were or why each bag was marked by them at first, but I would soon learn. On the desk by the bags was a stack of old IDs with the same names that were used to mark the bags. At that moment, it became clear to me that they were stolen IDs from Sean’s old tenants, and that the piles of furniture were items stolen from the tenants. I felt extremely shocked and unsettled upon this discovery. All of these old renters had been in the same situation that I was in, and they had been harassed by Sean like me. I took a photo of the IDs and the furniture with my phone to show the police. I continued to explore the other rooms to check for any other evidence to give to the police. In
the adjacent room, I found a stack of old papers and photographs lying on an old mattress. I went through them, and what I found made me feel sick to my stomach. There were old, grainy photos of old tenants, taken from outside the windows of the house. After photographing it, I hastily walked up the basement stairs and out of the house, anxious to get out of there. On the way out the door, I heard footsteps running up behind me. I began sprinting toward my car, but I tripped on the way. When I looked back, I saw Sean running quickly after me. Completely hysterical, I got up and ran into my car, and I desperately scrambled for my keys. Before I could get out of the driveway, Sean dove onto the hood of my car and began banging on the windshield, cracking it. I put the car in reverse and sped out of the driveway, causing Sean to fall. As I drove away, I heard gunshots ring out from behind me. I drove away as fast as I could and arrived at the police station, and I ran inside hysterically. I reported the entire situation and begged the police to help me against Sean. To my surprise, they actually started to take my situation seriously, and they said that they would question Sean the next day. To my relief, they even let me stay at the police station that night. I didn’t want to stay in that house for another second. The next day, I went back to the house with a few police officers to show them what I found in the basement, and for them to question Sean. However, we noticed that Sean was nowhere to be found after searching around the property. The police were able to open the doorand I led them into the basement, but all of the stolen furniture and IDs were gone. I begged the officers to take my situation seriously and to believe me, but they wouldn’t listen. I was livid, and I slightly lost my temper at the police station at the officers for their laziness and dismissiveness. I moved all of my stuff back into my parents’ house that day, and I settled there for a while as I searched for a new rental. I’m extremely grateful that my parents were willing to help me get back on my feet even though we were still in the middle of an argument. I was also extremely relieved that I would never have to see that mentally ill, criminal landlord again, or keep being victim to his harassment. However, I was frustrated that I would likely never retrieve my stolen furniture from Sean. I wrote this story to warn everyone to always beware of who you are renting from. You’ll never know if your landlord is an unhinged thief who is out to cause harm to you.
Color Crowd – Zach Martin
Poem of Repent – Anna-Kate Curtin
Dust covers me, I am no longer an important memory, I am torn and aged. I am hidden and caged.
Forever lost and lonely, Only experiencing melancholy. For you get to keep on living And punish me for my sinning.
I enrage you. I erase you. Keep me fragile and buried To save the soul you married
A restless shadow released To praise your one and only beast. To leave me rot with no thought Is an utter shame., And yet I’m the one to blame.
Pet Moose Haiku – Anonymous
I had a pet moose His name was Bruce he had a Nice Caboose eh eh!
My Home – Nicholas Yarbrough
Puck Shots – Drew Short
The Shadows Haiku – Anonymous
Shadows on the wall They whisper into my ears They silence my screams
Reflections Haiku – Anonymous
I stare in the mirror It is not my reflection That looks back at me
Snowy Scene – Andrew Friedman
The TWS – Anonymous
Morning light slides through the trees classes begin to hum The TWS campus moves with every hour new ideas buzz Winch walks at night keep the campus busy footsteps under dim light The cold winter air blowing loudly through the trees The forest alive An unforgettable place with unforgettable people.
Hockey Poem – Anonymous
The rink is cold and kind of loud, My team skates out in front of a crowd. I try to pass, I try to shoot, Sometimes it works, sometimes I boot. My legs get tired, my hands get sore, We fall a lot, then get up for more. Even when we lose the game, Hockey’s fun, and I’m glad I came.
Wapiti Hockey – Anonymous
Perfect Gift – Morgan Pang Lyrics: Morgan Pang Music: Suno.com
Sonoma – JoAnn Pellecchia
New Beginnings – Anonymous
For a brief moment, silence fills, The candlelight aglow. Holly hung from window sills, I see the sight of snow. Joy fills the air. As the bustling city begins to slow, Footprints trace the quiet streets below. Special memories no one else knows. But this feeling is temporary. Snow melts, and the bustle continues. The holiday beauty is fleeting, but the city remains. New beginnings await.
Growing Up Through the Game – Anonymous To me, hockey has always been more than just a hobby or a fun activity to do on the weekends. At first, I thought that it was always about being the best skater or being able to show off in front of the big kids. But the more I have played and matured, the more I have realized that the ice rink is like another classroom. A different classroom. The type that teaches you lessons that you will carry for the rest of your life. The lessons that I have learned on the ice have helped me navigate my way through the toughest of situations. One of the first lessons that hockey has taught me is that things do not always go the way you want them to, but that is no reason to give up. Every game has those moments where something goes wrong: a missed pass, a whiffed shot, or a shift that doesn’t go your way. These are the moments that allow you to reflect on what went wrong, and you can assess how to fix them, learn how to be resilient, and be able to bounce back stronger and more confident than ever before. You have to learn how to forget about the last shift and do the best you can, then the next minute that you are out on the ice. Through the years, I have learned how to reset quickly, accept the moment, and move forward. That has become a crucial life skill: when something goes wrong in school or in life, I try to handle it in the same way. I breathe, assess the situation, see if I can better my position, and get right back at it. Another lesson that hockey has taught me is how to stay composed under pressure. Hockey is very fast and often unpredictable, so you do not always have lots of time to think before reacting. I learned that being calm is about trusting your capabilities. This has helped me a lot in the classroom with big homework assignments, presentations, or tests. I realize that there is only so much that I can do to prepare myself for what is coming, and I have to be able to trust myself and my abilities to perform when the time comes.The biggest lesson of all that I have learned through hockey is about character. The game reveals who you truly are when you start to face adversity. When you are tired, frustrated, and pushed to the end of your abilities. In these situations, hockey taught me how to be a good teammate, how to take accountability, and discipline. When you have nothing left, you still need to give something. You can never just give up, until it is all over. So in life, on those days when you feel like you have nothing to give, you still have to push through and keep going. So, while to many, the rink may just seem like a blank sheet of ice with some seats, to me, it is the place where I have learned the most about myself. Hockey has become much more than just a game to me; it has become a guide for how to handle the hardest things in life.
A Day in the Life of Winch Hockey Girls – Anonymous The alarm goes off at 6:45 a.m., and the sound cuts through the quiet of the dorm room. I lie still for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what day it is. It is a Tuesday, meaning I have practice in the afternoon. My roommate groans from the other side of the room, tossing her blanket over her head. I hit the snooze button, knowing full well I can’t risk falling back asleep. School days are always packed. I drag myself out of bed and grab my toiletry bag, walking down the hall to the bathroom. The tile floor is cold, and the lights are way too bright for this hour. A few girls are already there, some brushing their teeth in silence, others whispering about last night’s homework or how tired they are. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and look in the mirror for a second. I still look half-asleep, but that’s okay. Back in the room, I throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater and slip on my slippers. My backpack waits by the door, packed from last night. I grab my phone, AirPods, and water bottle before leaving. The morning air is sharp and cold as I step outside. The path to the dining hall is quiet except for the faint chatter of other students heading the same way. The dining hall is warm and smells like eggs and bagels. I spot my friends right away, sitting at the tables in the back, where all the hockey girls sit. I grab a plate and scrambled eggs, yogurt, and a bagel, then join them. Everyone’s still half asleep, but we start some small talk. When the clock hits 7:55, we get our stuff, saying quick goodbyes before heading off to class. My first period is AP Lang. The whiteboard already has our discussion question written on it. Today, we’re discussing the book we’ve been reading. I like lang, everyone’s got an opinion, and we usually end up arguing in a good way. I contribute when I can, but mostly I listen, jotting down notes that’ll help later when I’m writing essays. The second period is AP Gov, and it’s a total shift in energy. Dr. Friedman was already ready to lecture when I walked in, pointing at the graphic on the screen with a marker in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other. He talks fast, covering everything from policy to political theory, and even though it’s early, I do my best to keep up. After Gov, we head to Community Meeting. It’s one of those things that breaks up the morning. Everyone gathers in the dining hall while the student government goes over announcements. There’s always something about weekend activities, game schedules, or reminders about assignments. I sit with my advisory, half-listening, half-whispering about random topics. It’s a nice breather before the academic part of the day starts back up again. Next up is Calculus. Today, we’re working on a worksheet about the unit circle, which sounds simple enough until you actually start. I focus as much as I can, scribbling equations and double-checking my work. Math isn’t my favorite subject, but I’ve learned to appreciate the satisfaction that comes from finally solving something that took five tries. It’s kind of like hockey; once you understand what you’re doing, it feels natural. After Calc, I head to Engineering and Physics. This class is more hands-on, and today we’re working on our mousetrap cars. The room is full of energy as I greet my teacher, Mr. Frushell. Saws cutting wood, gears clicking, people laughing as their cars fail on the first test run. My group is focused on making ours go as far as possible, tweaking the axle alignment, anddebating whether to use CDs or smaller wheels for the front. It’s fun, and I like how different it feels from sitting at a desk. I have found I learn better when it comes to hands-on activities. Then comes Human Anatomy and Physiology. The classroom walls are lined with posters of muscles and bones. Today is presentation day, so everyone’s a little nervous. We take turns going to the front and explaining our topics, including bone types, joints, osteocytes, and more. When it’s my turn, I take a deep breath and start yapping. It goes well enough, and when I finish, I can finally sit back and relax. By the time lunch rolls around, we’re all starving. I met up with my friends again in the dining hall. We pile our plates with whatever looks best and find our usual table. The conversation bounces between classes, hockey, and random stuff that happened on campus. It’s the one time of day when I can relax and take a breather, as all of my classes are finished for the day. After lunch, it’s finally time to head back to the dorms for a short break. I change out of my jeans and sweater, swapping them for workout gear and a team jacket. My hockey backpack waits by the door, I sling it over my shoulder and head out, the cold air nipping at my cheeks as I make my way toward the rink. The rink is like a second home. The moment I walk in, I can smell the ice, that clean, cold scent mixed with the faint whir of the Zamboni. The locker room is loud, filled with laughter, music, and the sound of clear wrapping on shin pads. I get dressed quickly, pulling on my gear piece by piece until I’m all ready. I like to get on the ice early when it’s quiet, just me and a few other girls, and the sound of blades carving into freshly zambonied ice. The U16 practice starts first. Coach Pelli runs us through drills, passing, shooting, and breakout plays. My legs burn, but it’s the good kind of tired. After about an hour and a half, we take a quick break for the ice cut. I grab some water, sit on the bench, and talk with teammates before the next practice. Then it’s back on the ice for the 19U practice. I can feel the exhaustion start to creep in as we begin the first drill, but I push through it. By the time we wrap up, I’m drenched in sweat and barely have the energy to untie my skates. But it’s the best kind of exhaustion, the kind that means you worked hard. Back in the dorms, I take a long shower, the hot water surrounding me. I change into comfy clothes, including sweats and a hoodie, and lie down on my bed for a few minutes, scrolling through my phone, checking texts, and catching up on anything I missed during the day. Dinner comes next. A few of us gather in the hallway, and we walk to the dining hall together, laughing about practice. The air outside is cold and sharp now. The dining hall is warm and loud, the lights bright against the dark sky outside. We pile food on our plates: pasta, bread, and salad. Then we head to our table for dinner; it’s relaxing, and no one’s thinking about school or assignments. After dinner, we head back to the dorms for some chill time before study hall. Some girls hang out in their room watching a show, others FaceTime friends or work on homework early to get early lights. I stay in my room, cleaning any mess I left earlier and laying out clothes
fortomorrow. At 8:10, we all meet as a floor to check in with the dorm parent. Everyone’s chatting, and the energy is calm now. When my name’s called, I automatically answer “here.” I’m on trash duty tonight, so I grab my coat, a trash bag, and head out. The air outside is freezing. I grab one of the scooters parked by the door and roll up the path to the dumpster, holding the bag with one hand and steering with the other. The cold wind stings my face, but it’s almost peaceful out here at night. I toss the trash into the dumpster, then scooter back, hitting a bump and getting some airtime. Back inside, I toss my coat onto the chair and sit at my desk for study hall. Everyone’s doors are open, and the hum of quiet typing fills the hallway. I work through some calculus problems, revise notes from AP Gov, and write a few sentences for my Lang essay. It’s not too bad, my roommate and I motivate each other to stay focused. Time passes faster when you’re surrounded by people all trying to get stuff done. At 10:00, study hall ends. There’s a quiet rush of movement, people closing laptops, brushing teeth, saying goodnight to the dorm parent. I head down the hall to wash my face and brush my teeth again, the same routine from this morning. Back in the room, I set my alarm for tomorrow, plug in my phone, and crawl under the covers. The dorm lights dim, and the hallway grows quiet except for the occasional laugh or whisper. My body feels heavy, worn out, but in a good way. I stare at the ceiling for a second, thinking about everything I did today - school, friends, hockey, all of it. It’s a lot, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. By 10:30, I turn off my light, say goodnight to my roommate, and let the quiet settle in. The last things I hear before falling asleep are the fan’s hum and the soft whistle of the wind. The same routine, the same rink, and the same familiar faces will all return tomorrow.
Beliefs – Anonymous
I stand by family, it's who shows up, We all bleed red, through every hiccup. Mental health first, feelings do matter, No difference if you're a boy, no hearts should shatter.
I can afford it, they get what they need, Love is love, a safe place indeed. Never start a fight but finish it true, No secrets between us, old or new.
Big and small, they all matter here, Respect is mutual, that's clear. You came from a woman, so respect them well, Money isn't everything, as stories tell.
Always my child, no matter the phase, Respect others' choices in all ways. Love all but advocate for yourself, God created you; be true to yourself.
I'm Catholic and follow those beliefs, But never force others, bring no grief. I won't judge others for different views, Love remains constant, through all hues.
Life of a Woman – Anonymous
Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time No chest is no good If chest, then cover them up or you're a ______ No butt will get you shame But then you'd better cover up and find clothes for it Skinny, then put on weight, you don't eat enough Chubby then loses that weight. No one likes a fat girl Look good, but don't wear too much makeup Workout, but don't burn out Be strong and independent, but then you're bossy Be sweet, but don’t get walked over, or be lazy and not help provide Take care of the home and kids, but also pay half the bills You're quiet, then you'll get hurt You're loud, then no one will like you for it You're smart, then you're a nerd and a know-it-all so shut up He's smart, and he's going somewhere and will be the boss You're not smart enough, and you can’t get anywhere You wear anything and you're either letting go of yourself or asking for it no in between Women can't do anything without something holding them down, telling them they are wrong Women are always in the wrong somehow
The Beginning of Time - Michael Dean Before time, there was space. Before space, there was time. The two relied on each other, and from each other came the power to create. The timeline starts with two brothers. One goes by Celestia. The other brother's name was Timeon. They lived in a realm called the Dueverse. This realm marks what there was before space and time. Nothing created this realm, and nothing created the brothers. Both are eternal. The brothers both lived in unison for a long, long time. Some say trillions of years, but who knows, time was irrelevant then. After a while, Timeon and Celestia had quite the controversy. Timeon was tired of the vast nothingness around him. Celestia was content with the Dueverse. He deemed it unnecessary and risky to create more than there already was. One day, Timeon brought up his idea to his brother. “Celestia, our world is lonely, and lacks meaning. Let us bring a spark upon the dueverse.” Celestia was quick to answer. “We have all we need, Timeon, it is your greed that begs for more.” Little did Celestia know, his brother was not taking no for an answer. A battle struck out between the brothers, known as a “battle of the gods.” Timeon threw a punch at Celestia’s jaw, and with that punch came a new beginning. A tooth flew out of celestia's jaw. After the fight concluded, they came to an agreement. “Timeon, if it is the unknown you want, I shall grant that to you.” Celestia picked up the tooth from which Timeon punched from his jaw. Celestia clutches the tooth, and starts carving it. After the tooth is fully carved, Celestia explains to his brother what he created. “My brother, with this tooth I create life.” The tooth was carved into a human being. Once both brothers agreed, they came together to give life to this human-shaped sculpture. From this tooth came the first ever human, and he went by the Navigator. Being the first human, or first anything of that matter, the Navigator was eternal. He was created by both brothers, but for different reasons. Celestia wanted the human to be his slave, working forever for him. Timeon wanted the human to have meaning and purpose. He wanted for humans to reproduce, and create families. He wanted to create emotions like love, envy, and hate. At first, The Navigator was used as an experiment. Although disliked by Timeon, Celestia took control of the human. This was until Timeon had enough. Behind Celestia’s back, Timeon went to this human. The Navigator, unable to feel anything, listens closely to Timeon. He too wants to feel emotion. Timeon put together a drink for the navigator. This drink had Timeons tears, and Celestia's control. If the human drank this potion, this would give him full control of his emotions. This is what he did. Timeon gave the drink to the human, and once he took his first sip, he could feel the drastic change. His eyes turned green, his hair turned brown. The Navigator shed tears of happiness, the first emotion he has ever felt. Timeon saw this pure emotion of The Navigator, and became more motivated than ever. He was done with his brother thriving off of
the wasted potential of the dueverse. Years pass,
and the Navigator seeks for Timeon. “Timeon, come to me! I feel lonely and sad, with little to bless me and make me happy.” Timeon, already wanting growth in the human race, breaks the rules just a little. He takes two strands out of the Navigators hair, and from them come twins. Timeon named them the Atomus twins. They were brought together for one purpose, to be highly reactive. “I shall give you two friends, dear human, but know that they won't be here to stay.” The Navigator becomes confused by this remark. “If they can't stay, why create them in the first place?” Little did The Navigator know, Timeon had a plan. Timeons plan would forever change the dueverse as it was. He would put the Atomus twins into Celestia’s next meal. Once Celestia would swallow them, the collision between the two twins would be enough to create an atomic explosion. The Navigator loved this plan, as the death of Celestia would free him from his eternal chains. Once the time came, Timeon would invite his brother to a feast. “Celestia, my beloved brother, let us celebrate the creation of life with a grand feast.” Celestia was ecstatic. He would be getting praised for something he treated poorly, and enslaved. Once the time came, both brothers came together for the meal. Before the feast, The Navigator put the Atomus twins into the loaf. Timeon grabs the loaf of bread, which contains the twins inside. Celestia, irritated with Timeon for eating first, rips the loaf from his brother's hand. Little did he know, this was all part of the plan. Celestia stuffs his mouth in a filthy, unorderly like manner. Once the bread was gone, Celestia starts groaning in pain. “What is wrong, my brother?” Timeon asks. “The bread, it's bad, it's messing with my-” In that moment, the atomus twins collided with one another, creating a gargantuan bang. In a split second Celestia was no more. Planets and stars burst from his stomach. Black holes and meteors spur from his mouth. Galaxies were blasted from his appendix, all in a split second time. People all know this phenomenon as “The Big Bang,” created from the two atomus twins colliding into one. The blast kept expanding, as there was nothing in the Dueverse that could stop it. Once the deed was done, the navigator had a question for Timeon. “Timeon, my creator, how can you call this the Dueverse, when only you remain?” This struck wonder in Timeons mind. He decided to come up with a new name for the new world he created. Timeon replies, “This marks a new beginning for life, and creation. We shall call this realm, the universe.” Because there is now only one god, he felt the name was best suited for the occasion. The navigator, now freed from his chains, asked for one more favor from Timeon. “Timeon, you have done me more service than I could ever repay, and for that I deeply give thanks and
gratitude. I have one more request for you. I want a home where I can raise a family.” Timeon took this request with great passion. Timeon took a planet from his brother's remains and worked hard on it. As time went by this planet, originally just rock and lava, started to grow life. At first, timeon put blue into the planet. He called this water. He then put life on the planet. This was a different kind of life, a vegetative form he called plants. From one day to the next the planet grew in thriving colors. Finally, once the project was done, he brought this planet to the navigator. “Dear human, I give you this planet to do as you wish, create a family, hunt, drink the waters, eat the plants and the animals from which I granted onto the world. You shall call this planet “Earth.”’ Although all seemed well, Timeon had one condition for humans. “If you wish to live on Earth, I shall take immortality from you. This will create meaning in each lifeform.” The navigator didn’t think twice. With tears streaming down his face, he replied, “dear Timeon, take immortality from me, for it is something I never wished to have. Please, give me a beautiful partner from which I can create a family.” Timeon gave him what he wanted, and the first ever humans met. Love was seen for the first time. From the navigator and his lover came two sons, those sons had daughters, those daughters had sons and daughters, so on and so forth. Millennias after the first humans, the earth was fully populated. Emotions thrived throughout the lands. War struck, peace hit, and humans continued to live on. That is how we got to the world today.
The next issue will be published on: May 10, 2026