Ariel Engel

Hunting is something I've always wanted to do. My dad's been a big hunter ever since I can remember, always taking a week off during November to spend time at his camp with friends.

A few years ago, I went to GMCC (Green Mountain Conservation Camp) to get my Orange Card in order to get my hunting license. We learned how to shoot .22s, muskets (black powder weapons) and use a bow and arrows. We were taught how to determine where to shoot an animal for one shot, one kill deals. We went through rigorous training on determining safe shots depending on the type and number of the animals, whether or not the animal was in season, and also determining if there was a good backstop or if we were shooting into a safe zone. I wound up getting the highest score in camp for the test and acquiring my first Orange Card. I went back the year after with a friend so she could get her Orange Card while I reinforced my hunting knowledge.

The Term "Friends"

By Ariel Engel
Essex High School, Grade 11

There are those days
When I want to quit school,
Quit your class;

There are those days
When I want to scream at you,
"I'm trying my hardest";

There are those days
When you don't seem to believe me,
You think I have more to say;

And then there are days
When you're the only one who can help,
Since you've been through it all before.

You say we're not "friends"
I understand why you say that
"Friends" call each other to gossip,
"Friends" have sleepovers,
"Friends" meet each other at the movies,

So in those terms-
No.
We're not "friends"

But friends also listen,
Friends are there for you,
Friends give you their advice,
Friends will let you speak your mind,
Friends share music and books,
Friends have "deep" conversations,

Friends don't give up on you!

And you've done those things for me

Facebook - Just Another Novelty

By Ariel Engel
Essex High School, Grade 11

Facebook. At first, it was just another MySpace, a "safer" MySpace. My best friend told me about it and I thought I'd just try it out to see how I liked it. There were a lot more people that I knew, more people to connect with. I could keep tabs on what people liked and who was going out with who.

The lawn was dotted with leaves, scattered chaotically like jigsaw pieces. Dead grass could be seen around the fringe tight to the metal fence, its loosely coiled barbed wire precariously spiraling the top like a lunatic too close to the cliff's edge. Spindly trees reached their branches to the sky in a silent plea for freedom and the house itself crouched behind its acolytes for protection. Its black exterior smoldered, the remnant of Their insanity, but the skeleton stood sturdy despite the years it had witnessed alone. The lot held a dreary grey hue during even the sunniest of days. At night, however, the moon's chalky white light cast an eerie glow across the property and the arena came alive. Black cats clambered up the trees to spy on noisy neighbors as the ghouls danced in midnight's shadows and the gremlins gnawed grouchily at their game. No one could ever explain the disappearing dogs, the declining squirrel population, or the sudden lack of seagulls.

I sing of arms and a dragon
Who came to Geatish mountains
From untold lands - greatly aided
In flight and in navigation
By the bestial deities,
Having pity for its lost family
During that great war of fiends,
And of how that gallant beast
Maimed unworthy Beowulf,
Yet was unfairly finished off
By another member of the human race;
The dragon itself whose hoards
Of gold and jewels and riches unknown,
Nobly guarded for centuries,
Were unjustly swindled
By the Geats, mere mortals.

Oh Muse! Relate to me the causes
By which the lesser gods,
On each side of mortality fought,
And by which the Valiant fell
Thus enabling the death
Of such a great hero,
By which deeds offended Him,
The greatest of gods,
In order that He favor mortality.

Young and inexperienced,
Our hero flew many miles,
After the death of his compatriots,
To the mountain peaks of Götaland.
In search of lodging, the weary traveler
Sought a place to rest and recover,

Mens Legerens

By Ariel Engel
Essex High School, Grade 11

You have a choice; you can have special powers to fly or to read people's minds...

A choice? It's not much of a decision, really. Being able to travel free of cost, while economical, does not seem to be as useful as the power to read minds. If carefully compared to one another, I should think that mind reading would indeed trump flying. Of course, the data most certainly depends on the extent of these powers. Are there any restrictions to when you can fly or read minds? If you can fly, are you a Peter Pan, having only to think happy thoughts to lift you into the air, or are you a Tinker Bell, easily aloft with a flap of your wings? If you can read minds, are you an Edward Cullen, restriction free as long as the target isn't protected by shields, or an Aro, physically bound to the person whose mind you are trying to unlock?

I ran through the woods, his eyes still burning questions through me. The pain of my soft, bare feet pounding on stones, roots, and sticks was something to concentrate on instead of the little "O" his mouth had made from shock at my honesty. Darkness was beginning to swallow up the world, his confusion erased from my memory as I tried to see where I was going in lieu of what he could possibly have been thinking. A wolf howled, showing everything his pain, like he was urging me to do the same. The tears hadn't started to come yet but I could feel their acidity just begging to be let loose.

I went back to school today
To drop off my English homework
The halls were waxed
And everything smelled like paint
Chairs and desks and computers
Were stacked in front of lockers
Walking past the offices
Social Studies
Language
English
Science
Math
Which should've been familiar
But they were all so empty
It was like walking around town
On Christmas with my best friend
Everything was the same as always
But just empty
No music blasting in the English wing
No absurd laughing from the Language office
No Social Studies teachers yelling down the hall
No Science teachers wheeling things around
No Math teachers eating cake
The English ladies aren't clique-ing down the halls
As they gossip to each other
The Math and Social Studies coaches
Aren't bickering with each other
The Language teachers aren't
Bidding everyone they meet "Good morning"
It's just an lifeless pit of despair
And I realize
I don't miss the students
I miss the teachers

Sing to me of endless whispers
Let their words snake through my ears
Would that I could understand their meaning
If only they were constructed on sense

Write to me of endless nights
Let the stars burn through to my soul
Would that they would sparkle forever
If only they would remember me

Hum to me of endless summers
Let the sun warm me through my skin
Would that the air was always as fresh
If only the sky were always as blue

Speak to me of endless friendship
Let the bond be shared between hearts
Would that the mind would always stay calm
If only life were always as pure

Sing to me, write to me, hum to me, speak to me
Of endless whispers, endless nights, endless summers, endless friendship
Would that they will continue forever
If only they will remain the same