How Far She Went By: Emily R. O'Connor

She used to dream of being a princess. She used to dream of a prince charming. She was happy, She was only 10, She didn’t know about growing up. She started dreaming of being skinny. She started dreaming of hot boys. She started dreaming of high school. She was only 13, She didn’t know what was to come. Her dreams started to become a reality; She was skinny with the magic of two fingers, She became popular with a light of a cig, She got the hot boys with a flash of cleavage, She had reached high school. She was only 14. She didn’t know what was going to happen. She partied to much, She was losing more friends than she had, The thought of another boy made her cringe, She didn’t expect this to happen. She was only 16 She didn’t think it could get worse By 18 she stopped dreaming She stopped trying to pass She’d rather smoke another cigarette than go to class. Always wondering how many more drags till she dies, She didn’t want to keep going. At 19 she started thinking; When she was 10 she was happy. When she was 13 she got boobs. When 14 rolled around, she learned how to roll. 16 was one hell of a party filled with drama and drugs. 18 was a low point and ready to die. 19 she left. 19 she was free like a prisoner released. 19 she was done with immature boys, 19 she was done with the rumors. At 19 she ran farther than she could run. 21 she found a job, 21 she paid her bills, 21 she wasn’t dead, 21 she was alive but not living. 28. She made it to 28. She didn’t think she would With all the needle points in school And always feeling like a fool. She made it. After putting bandaids on the wounds And waiting for them all to heal She finally admired the scars. The scars. The scars of the fat 13 year old. The scars of the attention seeking 14 year old. The scars of the raped 16 year old. The scars of the crumbling 18 year old. The scars of the scared 19 year old. The scars of the lonely 21 year old. By 34 she was happy. She had someone to love her at 34. Someone who understood where she came from, Someone who was willing to love her scars, Someone who made sure there were never scars again. At 34 she felt 10.

Dare To Scare By: Kaitlyn Monroe

I’m all alone, I can’t find anyone, i’m fighting for my life and I’m literally terrified. I feel as though i've been dropped into the middle of a forest wearing bloody raw meat for clothes, and i’m praying a wolf doesn't find me even though I’m a walking target and i’ll be lucky If I make it an hour out here. Gosh my life sucks!

24 hours ago I was at home with my cat watching netflix and now i’m god knows where, taken literally over my dead body. If I didn’t say it already Gosh my life sucks! I mean what person in their right mind goes down someone's chimney (other than Santa claus) and steals them! Oh man! I’ve been taken by Santa… Or worse the Grinch! Oh my God Jim Carrey how could you! My whole life's been a lie! I could really go for some ice cream right now!

The room i'm in is dim, and its huge! It’s bigger than Kim Kardashian's butt! My hands are tied behind my back and I have a rag in my mouth or maybe a sock. Yuck! (I hope they washed it first!) I hear footsteps coming toward me. Then a door opens and a shadow appears in the bright light of the doorway. The figure was extremely tall, and his hair was wild. He says to me “Do you know the Muffin man?”

and then he laughed maniacally and popped out of the door way with a huge smile on his face. He had crazy eyes, they were big and black with dark rings around them, his nose was small and curved and his smile permanently held in place by wire. It looked as though he just finished drinking a cherry slushy, red oozing from his immobile lips (at least I hope he was drinking a slushy!) He was wearing a long white lab coat and white pants, both semi drenched in red. He raised his hand to my face and stroked my cheek, he touched me as though I was a china doll. Then his expression darkened, and he grabbed my shoulders and he shook me violently, tears streaming down my face. Now I know how curley's wife felt! He knocked me to the floor then went over to a newly placed silver table and started to examine it. He turned around, death seeping from his pores and in a hush voice I could barely hear, said to me

“Oh my dear, how can you wear such tattered skin” and proceed in my direction, his eyes never leaving mine...

Firefly By: Abigail Evans

He stared at his signature. He turned the page back. He turned it back again. And again. And again. Seven pages filled with his name. He sighed and set the clipboard down and opened the door. The room held a sick yellow glow, but for now the sun shone down through the small window, creating patterns of pink, red and orange on the wall beside him. The door closed behind him with a gentle click. He gazed into the jar at her bedside as he sat, a light smile touching his lips. Lights flickered, appearing, disappearing, and reappearing elsewhere. Just like her. His smile was gone. Sometimes she was here. Sometimes she was a bit to the right. Sometimes she was on high. Sometimes she couldn't be seen at all. He saw her life flickering in her eyes, and she was never in the same place as the last time he had visited. He was always there, waiting to see her light. It wasn’t on today, at least not yet. He continued to watch the little lives in the jar, wondering who put them there. He turned and walked towards the window to stare at the sky while he waited for her to open her eyes, knowing the light inside them would flicker off soon afterwards anyway. He watched stars appear. Only a sparing few at first, but then the universe opened up to him. Some stars shone brilliantly as an example for the others to try and follow, but a few flickered, unable to hold onto their light. He walked back to her bedside and looked down at her peaceful face. At least when she was sleeping he could pretend she remembered him. The flickering lights caught his eye again. He watched them dance, occasionally looking back at her as they flickered on and off. He grabbed the jar, and stared through it’s clear, confining walls. There were a few twigs and pieces of grass scattered around the bottom, but that wasn’t fair. They deserved to be free. He walked to the window, holding the jar in one hand. There was no screen behind the glass. He slid the window cautiously, even though he knew there was no sound that could wake her. He grabbed the lid, holding his breath and closing his eyes as he took it off, setting the jar on the sill. He glanced up again at the flickering lights before he turned. The door closed behind him with a gentle click.

Save Me By: Theresa Hensler

Ba-dum-bum Ba-dum-bum Sweet, she was, before he was Always there. Watching, loving, killing. Various amounts of pain, were caused by him. Everyday, she was humming to herself Ba-dum-bum Ba dum-bum Mad, she became, because he destroyed her Even, he’s gone, she still hurts Ba-dum-bum Ba-dum-bum In her eyes, you see the fear, the madness Manipulative, he was. Making her just a game. Ba-dum-bum Ba-dum-bum Slowly, she begins to fade away Into nothing. Crying from dusk to dawn Killing herself, before he did.

Peace By: Brittany Bettis

Peace is something you can find. When you look for it, you just use your mind. It might take some time, but peace is something you can find. Peace is like the light hidden in the night, it’s something that tells you you’ll be alright. Peace is like the star shining so bright, even if it’s not the main source of light. Peace is what you see when you look a little differently, when you look for the beauty in every little thing. Peace is what comes from the good you do, even if the good doesn’t seem big to you. When you look at the little things in time, when you look for the rhythm in rhyme. When you look and make peace,peace is something you will find.

True Colors By: Bailey Parbs-Slawson

Everyone says that's just how just how life goes. But do they know you’re the one I need? You’ve been here through the highs and lows. You make me laugh when you tickle my toes. You make me sad when you lost the bead. Everyone says that’s just how life goes. From day to night you were the one I chose. I get high off you like kids and weed. You’ve been here through the highs and lows. Eventually, your true color shows. Killing my heart? That’s the deed. Everyone says that’s just how life goes. Don’t expect a yes when you propose. My anger will go into high speed. You’ve been here through the highs and lows. Waiting in the cold for you to love me, froze. I’d wait for you to come to me during a stampede. Everyone says that’s just how life goes. But you’ve been here through the highs and lows.

Presents By: Theresa Hensler

Age eight: Stephen’s Christmas present was her body. She didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what happened, she needed, for the sake of the family to tell everyone and anyone that nothing happened. Even though it did. Age ten: She and her sisters received an angry Daddy. He yelled a lot. It was better to shut the hell up. It was better to stay in the bedroom. She stopped wishing on stars, and started begging to not wake up. But she did. Age twelve: Her father took himself away. Mama was bitter, like the chocolate you spit out. That summer was so ice cold. A mistress on the mattress was better than his princess. She pretended it didn’t hurt her. But it did. Age fourteen: She was given a sharp silver pen and 2 unused canvases. Her wrists became tragic crimson colored artwork, representing all the pain she held inside. She told Mom that she’d stop so they’d leave her be. And so they did. Age sixteen: Senior boys gave her a whole new world .They loved her, like a toy. She was just a sophomore. Young and foolish. Her body was a game, her mind was a puzzle. They broke their other toys, and she was no different. She didn’t want them to leave her. But they did. Age seventeen: She was given a piece of fishing line to hang onto. Fragile, barely alive. She was falling.A new boy found her. She didn’t trust him, was he like the others, just after a new toy? He told her cared for her. And he promised did.

Once... By: Anna Tsaturyan

It was in 1800003 That we went hunting in a small skiff There was me, my grandpa, my brother and niece. The sun was shining happily as if promising a good luck and also fruitfulness. I was quite young, so were my siblings But clearly that chilly autumn morning. Then I understood how gorgeous nature was Unless untouched and spoiled it was. My brother was canoeing while My grandpa was preparing the gun And looking for victims at the very same time. We were making fun of my grandpa loudly Which was being followed by a shout angrily “Silence silly kids!” My grandpa was our hero An old man with gray hair and wrinkled forehead A mysterious mustache That had so many secrets hiding behind. Finally we reached the cute bank of the lake Tall bamboos and emerald bushes around. And there was the beauty… A flock of swans floating on the water Like a piece of white peace Dancing charmingly and gently. A smile appeared on our faces young The stillness followed immediately among. But who could imagine that the hero kind Was planning something extremely cruel. Suddenly a horrifying gunshot was heard. The mother swan was bleeding red. My grandpa was standing, holding the gun proudly As if very pleased with what he had just done. A cold grief covered the lake The swans gathered around the dead Singing a sad song. “Goodbye, goodbye My poor dear goodbye”. That was the last song of the flock. Very soon they bowed their flexible necks On the body of their beloved friend. It was the end… End of dreams, kindness and childhood Humanity, fairy tales, respect and the hero of course.

What does it mean to live in Dansville By: Katherine Warner

What I have noticed about living in Dansville is that when you live in a small town like I do there is a lot of history tied to it. One of the major historical events that Dansville is known for is The Castle On The Hill.In 1882 the small town of Dansville a Castle was built on the East hill overlooking Dansville.Jackson Sanatorium was many things a health resort, water therapy, a hotel, an asylum for military men with PTSD, a spa for the rich people which is what it was known for. “Our Home on the Hillside thrived many popular icons on the lecture circuit such as Frederick Douglass, Susan B. Anthony, and Clara Barton”. The Castle was 5-stories high had a pool on the roof. Opened in 1883-1910 Jackson filed for bankruptcy. Opened up again in 1917 and was an asylum for the army/military men that were coming back home from the WWl.After that. It sadly closed down 1971. The Castle was almost 100 years old when they closed it down the patient population was not as great as it was in the beginning. People used to be able to go and look at the Castle but after the last horrible earthquake people are not allowed up in the castle or they will get arrested for trespassing.

This small town of Dansville a thing called The Red Cross was brought in. Clara Barton, She was a nurse in the American civil war, a teacher, and a patient clerk. The first local society was founded August 22, 1882, in Dansville, Livingston County, New York, where she maintained a country home.What is amazing about the Red Cross is that they have shelters, feeds and provides emotional support to victims of disasters; supplies about 40 percent of the nation's blood; teaches skills that save lives; provides international humanitarian aid; and supports families in need. It's a non-profit organization that relies on volunteers and the generosity of people. It is an amazing thing if you think about if Clara Barton never came to Dansville New York to have a meeting Dansville wouldn’t have ever became the first local society for The Red Cross. What people always say about my town is “ oh you are from a small town, you can’t do anything in your life”. Well, that is not true, Dansville New York is a small town, yes, but I believe that just because you are from a small town doesn't mean that you can’t go out and be a successful person. .If you just believe in yourself it doesn't matter if you’re from a small town or if you're from a big city. So when you live in a small town you may become a bigger part of the town without having knowledge of it.

Beat By: Abigail Evans

One beat. One beat. One beat. And one beat more. I cease my stepping, though this rhythm continues as the underlying beat of the bass drum sounding. It’s tone, so heavy, so strong. I feel it reverberating through me. My chest strains to each new beat of the low note, the two pounding in resonance. My body trembles as it shakes the earth. But then I open my eyes for ten steps more. We are still marching in white. We all stare straight ahead. Towards our destination which is only a few feet before me now. We march ten steps to the beat, and then we stop for four while the first person continues forward. Our duty. I close my eyes again once we stop, stabilizing myself by the tune of the persistent beating. Just a few, remaining, people behind me. Not one of us know the name of another, but we share a deeper, uniting thought. Ten more beats. Ten more steps. Ten more breaths. Close my eyes. Remind myself. It’s my duty. The continuous beat which was once a comfort to my thrashing mind now only creates a daunting sense of fear as I begin to resent the duty which lies before me. I open my eyes. One. Two. Three. There’s no one in front of me. Four. Five. Six. A bright, bold, terrifying mark. Seven. Eight. A mark of my duty. Nine. Ten. Gasping for air. I stop moving, I squeeze my eyes closed. One beat. One beat. One beat. And one beat more.

LIfe in a nutshell By: Kaitlyn Monroe

All my life there's been a target on my back. Whether it's people at school or my own family, someone's always tried to one up me, or talks about me behind my back. They're hoping I'll break down and give them what they want, a reaction, a crack in my strong exterior, some sign that they’ve broken me as much as they’ve been broken. But not once did I show any sign of weakness. Growing up, my grandmother practically engraved her life lessons in my genetic coding, she always told me “never settle, don't let the grass grow under your feet, never give up, and walk with a smile on your face and your head held high.” And I never forgot them and always used them in my life, and I know that's what I need to do now. Even in the pain I smiled, even in times of uncertainty I never gave up, and when I reached my comfort zones I kept on pushing. She’s given me so much guidance, more than my parents could have ever given me. She is selfless, and caring, always putting the needs of her family before others. She didn’t have an easy life and she made it this far, with her kids to put a smile on her face and God in her heart. So when I think of giving up she says to me “If I can do it so can you” and she’s right, and so far I have, I’ve made it through so far, not blemish free but I’m a fighter. Getting bullied, or being abandoned by a parent, or having my siblings say such cruel, cold hearted things to me has hurt, but only for a small period of time, because after a while that new fresh cut begins to callus and harden making the once damaged weak blemish strong and powerful and ready for the next cut and any after that. Be proud of your imperfections, your blemishes, and your scars. They make you who you are. They show you're a fighter. They show you are strong. They tell the world you don’t give up easily and you're ready for whatever it throws at you!