Student’s Writings

Wonderland by Jayla Nickens-Gill

The students were tasked to “picture yourself in Wonderland.” The prompts included the Beatles song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” which was inspired by a child’s nursery school drawing and the imagery of “Alice in Wonderland.”

We  are  featuring three very different approaches to the topic. Jayla takes us (and two of her fellow students) down the rabbit hole. Rhys considers it from the perspective of a real world trek to reach America from Colombia. And Kendall reminds us that Wonderland is always within us.

WONDERLAND

Sitting in the classroom, my head felt light. I closed my eyes and started thinking. A few
minutes later I hear this ticking. I try to ignore it, but the ticking continues. I pick up my head,
everyone is gone, and this white, ugly, red-eyed rabbit is staring at me. It looks down at
its ticking clock, then at me, and runs off.

I run after the rabbit. We get to a park, and he jumps down a hole. It reminds me of the movie “Alice in Wonderland.” However, when I jumped down the hole, my trip wasn’t as slow or as nice as Alice. I smashed into a piano, dislocated my finger, and slammed into the ground.

“Damn gang, why you land like that?” Karla says

“What you mean? You acting like this a regular thing” I said

“You saw that rabbit too huh? He threw a rock at me, next thing I know I’m spiraling down
this hole” Karla explains

“Anyone else down here?”

“Kendall, but she ain’t see the rabbit, she was walking and fell into the hole”

“Where is she”

“Over there lying down” Karla points

“Wassup son” Kendall says

“How you fall?” I asked

“Listen son, my ankles gave out and I couldn’t catch myself in time, but I knew I was
going down so I didn’t even try to stop it”

“And y’all ain’t look for a way out?” I asked

“Nah gango” Karla says

“Ard come on” I say

We helped Kendall off the floor and opened the door. Nothing but dry grass and trees. I
look over to Kendall and Karla, their entire outfits have changed. They were wearing big brown
worn-out pieces of cloth, worn-out shoes, and beads. Sadly, I was wearing the same thing.

“Where are we” Karla says

“Who cares? Look at what I’m wearing!” Kendall screams

“This is some caveman type thing, reminds me of a video game I played” I say

“We don’t have no phones, no music, no food, no showers, no nothing” Kendall says

“I can’t listen to YoungBoy” Karla starts to freak out

Before I can say anything, we hear a ton of screaming and people dressed just like us are
running towards us, bows and arrows in their hands. They motion for us to follow them. They
lead us into a cave and they start telling stories with paint.

“Ahhh!”

A bloody scream is heard, and the people are alerted. They hand us weapons and
encourage us to help them fight. We help them but it doesn’t last long. Kendall gets shot in the
head by an arrow, Karla gets shot in the neck, and I was chased and then pushed off a cliff.

As I’m falling, I hear the familiar ticking of the clock, and I pick my head up to see everyone back in the classroom and Mr. Don giving us a prompt. “Wonderland.”
Jayla Nickens-Gill
4/21/23

Spring Break – Opening Lines

An important aspect of Creative Writing is an opening that grabs attention and provokes the reader’s interest to know more. Last week, the students were tasked to share stories about their Spring Break experiences. Here are some of their opening lines.

CHASE: I wake up at 3 P.M. on the table. My head feels light. This massive white light shines down on me. People surround me in white coats. “Okay, Chase. We’re going to move you onto your bed,” a blurry figure says. I nod my head. I can’t talk. I can barely breathe. I’m hyperventilating. “3, 2, 1,” someone says. I’m lifted off the operating table. Someone shoots me with a shotgun 7 times. At least that’s what it feels like.

RHYS: I don’t know if anyone else does this, but I have a list of the coolest things I’ve ever done. I’ve been on a roller coaster with no seatbelt, drop-kicked my brother, and saved my house from a fire. But nothing I ever did tops what I did over Spring Break—I met Batman.

HECTOR: On Wednesday afternoon, I finally snapped.

JAYLA: I thought it was a great idea to go out to eat. The car ride was terrible. Shonda was blasting church music the entire ride.

KARLA: Spring Break was terrible. I was so sad. I hated it.

KENDALL: On Saturday, I decided to change things up a bit. I knew what had to be done. It was finally time to get my nose pierced.

AWOL by Chase Christou

AWOL…the two students who sit to your immediate left and right have gone missing. Help us find them. Chase fears he may be responsible, given that this is not the first time his next door neighbors have disappeared. His dialogue with the cops is classic.

AWOL

I walk into the school, my stomach churning at the thought of having to watch the news. I wish I could just disappear for today, go AWOL, and not have to watch the news. Too bad Mr. Tom would make me fetch a switch if I skipped.

When I enter, I see the usual sights. E is sitting by the door playing football on
his phone, Danny is looking up quantum computers, Rhys isn’t here yet, like usual, and Jayla is also missing, which is weird. She’s usually early, making Mr. Tom his five cups of coffee.

I shake Mr. Tom’s hand and sit down at my seat. I do the attendance at 7:45. I’m here, Karla still isn’t here, E is here, Madison is here, Hector is here, Danny is here, Ethan is here, Kendall is here. But Rhys isn’t here, and Jayla isn’t here either. Mmmmmm. Guess who’s gonna be on the homework list today! Rhys comes in at 7:50. Dang, that’s early for him.

The entire day goes by and neither Karla nor Jayla show up. They didn’t even text. Mmmmm. Mr. Tom gives us another one of those super serious talks about following the honor code and showing up every day, on time, and calling the school if you can’t make it.

Over the weekend, still no sign of Jayla or Karla. Mr. Tom starts to get worried and sends a text to all the students. “Good evening students, don’t forget to do your literature. Stop waiting until 4 on Sunday. Also, remember to bring lunch on Monday. And Wednesday. Also Thursday. And finally, call me if you need help on your math. Also, your new grades have dropped on Thinkwave, so you can look at them. One final thing, Karla and Jayla are missing. If you know anything, please call me. Hope you’re enjoying your weekend. I certainly am. I’m loving this pizza up in the mountains. Check it out.” I don’t know how he wants us to check out his pizza. He didn’t even send a picture.

Jayla and Karla are missing. Oh my god…It’s all my fault. Bre’Onna and Kevin used to sit next to me, and now they’re out of the school. Now Jayla and Karla sit next to me, and THEY’RE OUT OF THE SCHOOL! HOW COULD I DO THIS? Oh my god, I need to do something. But not right now, it’s the weekend. I’ll do
something on Monday.

Monday comes, and when I walk into the school, I am met by a completely unusual sight. Instead of students sitting in the seats, it’s all cops! Cops everywhere!

“We’ve been waiting for you, Chase.” Says Mr. Tom.

“Yeah, we just got a few questions.” One of the officers chimes in.

“I DIDN’T DO IT!!” I yell, waving my arms around like a maniac.

“Is that self-incrimination I hear?” Another officer says.

“No.” I tell her.

“Chase, you know we have two students missing. And since you sit next to both of them, we think you could help us find them.” Mr. Tom tells me.

“So I’m not going to prison?” I ask.

“Well did you do it?” A tall officer asks.

“Nope.” I say confidently.

“Good, sit down.”

I sit down in Mr. Tom’s gargantuan leather chair and sit up as straight as I can.

“Okay, Chase.” One of the officers says calmly. “Please describe the very last interaction you had with Ms. Rivas and Ms. Gill.”

“Uhh.. well I got my chore checked by Karla on Tuesday.”

“Mhm.. Was she acting unusual in any way during that interaction?” A cop questions me.

“She was weirdly obsessed with Youngboy at that moment. She wouldn’t stop singing one of his songs and wouldn’t stop talking about him. But that’s pretty normal.”

“And what about Ms. Gill?”

“Uh, her and I were making lunch on Thursday.”

“And was she acting unusual?”

“No, it was pretty normal.”

“Okay, next question. If you were Ms. Gill or Ms. Rivas, and you were to run away,
where would you run away to?”

“What kind of question is that?” I ask.

“An important one. Answer it.” A mysterious cop demands.

“Well, I’d probably go to a family member’s home.”

“We’ve already looked there, where else?”

“Uhh, a friend’s house?”

“Already looked there as well. Where else?”

“I don’t know? Hershey Park?” I blurt out.

“You heard him boys, I want a team sent out to search the entirety of Hershey Park for the two girls, ASAP. We’ve already got teams all over Baltimore and the D.C. area. No sign of them. This is a multi-million dollar operation, we will not let them hide.”

“HUH? Why are you guys so serious about all this?” I ask.

“You wouldn’t understand.” The interviewer cop answers. The officers roll out and speed off towards Hershey Park.”

After I go back home, Ethan comes over to me. “Did you hear where Jayla and Karla are??” He asks.

“No, where are they?”

“Apparently they’re in Salt Lake City, Utah because that’s where Youngboy lives.”

“You’re joking. Did you tell the cops?”

“We don’t need too.”

“What do you mean?? The cops are looking for them in Hershey Park.” I say.

Later that night, while I’m watching TV and eating spaghetti, the reporter says they just got Breaking News.

“Earlier this evening, musical prodigy NBA Youngboy was awoken by two teenage girls who broke inside his Salt Lake City home in order to get his autograph. One of the girls even proposed to Youngboy. Both girls are apparently from The Community School in Remington, here in Baltimore City. They are both in custody facing multiple charges. WBAL will keep you updated with the latest information regarding the situation.”

I almost choke on my spaghetti.

Chase Christou
2/15/23

Fab Fours by Kendall Curtis

FAB FOURS…life is full of great foursomes. Some might even grow in your backyard. Kendall literally personifies the life of that rarest (and luckiest) of foursomes.

FAB FOURS

It gets hard being this liked. I have a whole holiday based on me. I’m just “that” girl. People have been looking for me for years, but you’ll never find me unless you have spectacular luck. I may not be a flower but boy, do I have power. If you haven’t guessed already, let me tell you who I am.

I’m a clover. Green and clean, kind of mean. I’m a clover, but not one of those three leaf dirty clovers. I’m a Four-leaf clover. You know the name and don’t wear it out.

BACK TO THE REAL LIVES OF PLANTS…

So over here in Plantville, these weeds and dirt eaters are trying to tell me that I’m too cocky and I’m not down to earth enough. Like how are you gonna tell me I’m not down to earth enough when I’m on earth? Girl, I literally am the Earth. But anyways, other than that mess I have just been chilling. You know, blowing in the wind, eating well, and just doing me. I don’t know why these other plants hate on me when they know they wanna be me. Like, make it make sense!

Imma give y’all a little tour of my 10.5 million dollar house. So up here is my shower because you know I don’t wanna be out here smelling like mulch. Right here is my Fenty beauty chloroplast spritz. (Rihana sponsored me.) Lastly, this is my closet. These are all my different soils. Right here is greeny go go, pink sun love, and orange light compost. Let me take you down here to my kitchen. I have all the good snacks. I got sunshine in a bottle, diet carbon dioxide because I’m watching my figure, and lemon infused oxygen. I guess you can say I have  a perfect life but you know I have a few stalkers like these old Irish grandma’s who won’t stop looking for me. Like I’m just trying to live my life and make this bag so I can get my mother out the ruff and tuff streets of Dandelion Road.

My mom does not got it like me. She got it bad. She only got two clovers left and she is going through it. She doesn’t get any rain , her soil is drying up , and they don’t get any sun down there.

If she had four clovers, her life would be easier, but she will never be me. Nobody can beat the original.

Kendall Curtis
Feb , 17 2023

VR Golf at 80 by Chase Christou

The students were tasked to enter one of three doors, marked YESTERDAY, TODAY, or TOMORROW.

YESTERDAY would allow them to experience any historical event, but not change the outcome. TODAY would place them in the middle of any current event. And TOMORROW would take them forward 12 years to celebrate what would then be Mr. Tom’s 80^th Birthday.

CHASE skips ahead to find Mr. Tom having finally succumbed to the virtual world.

VR Golf at 80

“Take those ugly, good for nothing, spawn of the devil himself goggles off, Chase!” Mr. Tom demanded.

I look at him through my virtual reality goggles.

“But, Mr. Tom! You know my eyes hurt when I’m not wearing them. Ugh, the real world is sooo boring too!” I groan.

“Back in my day, we ain’t have no fake reality goggles.”

“Mr. Tom, your days were the 1960s. Things have changed now. This is the new norm.”

“Ain’t nothing ‘normal’ about living your entire life in a fake, dream world where nothing matters.” He fires back.

“It is normal, though. You get used to it!” I tell him.

“You do get used to it, just like how an addict gets used to crack. You’re more addicted to your virtual reality than a crack addict is in a world where crack is free.”

“Dang Mr. Tom. You didn’t have to go that far. I could stop anytime I wanted to. I just don’t wanna stop!”

“Sure thing, bud. Just don’t come running back to me when your obsession eventually overwhelms you, and you are slowly consumed by virtual reality until it takes control of every single part of your life, slowly draining the soul from your body until you’re nothing more than a lifeless corpse wearing VR goggles in your mom’s basement, slouched over a portable $5 IKEA table as you live out the rest of your ‘social’ interactions in an environment where you don’t make any real friends and make zero actual progress in life.” Mr. Tom says, staring deep into my
soul.

“Haha Mr. T! That’s a good one. I’m gonna go talk to someone else now.” I say, slowly backing away from my deranged teacher. I wonder what happened to Mr. Tom? I guess he just didn’t get the memo.

I see Donald with his VR goggles on, dancing by the stereo, as it plays the most distorted Christmas music of all time. I walk over to him and start dancing too.

“Are you enjoying the Holiday Open House?” Donald asks.

“Yeah. It’s chill. Except for Mr. Tom. Don’t really know what happened to him.” I say as I’m dancing to Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song” on the distorted radio.

“Huh? What’d he say?” Donald looks over, confused.

“He said something about virtual reality being the spawn of the devil, VR sucks, I’m gonna die when I’m 30, no soul, something about a $5 IKEA table, and some other stuff.”

“Dang. You’re gonna die when you’re 30?” He asks.

“According to Mr. Tom. Says virtual reality is killing me and stealing my soul.”

“That’s sad. If only he’d try it.” Donald says.

“For real! Just give it a try.” I reply. “Sometimes he says he’ll die the day he puts on a VR headset.”

“He is out of his mind.” Donald laughs. “Plus, look at me! I use VR every day and I lived past 30. If anything, VR will help you live longer. Makes it way easier to do so much.”

“You’re a genius, Donald.”

I go back inside the school, not knowing where I’m going. I sit down in a chair, and I open up Spotify 2 on my VR headset. I open the Lofi Girl playlist, and accidentally fall asleep to the most boring music in the world.

I’m awakened by a shake of my shoulder.

“Chase!!” Ethan yells into my face.

“Huh? Wuh, where am I?” I yawn.

“You’re still in school! Not at home.” Ethan says, yawning too because yawning is very contagious and when one person yawns, everyone else must also yawn.

“No way bruh.”

“Yes way idiot.”

The school is pretty much empty, except for the people cleaning up who decided to just not wake me up.

“Oh my god, well let me go get something upstairs before we leave.”

I get up from my chair, and realize my back is in the most excruciating pain one could experience. God, I’m so freaking old. Mr. Tom gotta get these kids some chairs with lumbar support. This is inhumane.

When I finally recover from the pain, I head upstairs and walk into the upstairs classroom, only to be met by the most horrific sight. I see Mr. Tom, sitting in a chair. I must mention the chair also does not have lumbar support, so his back must be killing him. But there’s something even worse than the condition of that chair. Mr. Tom is wearing a VR headset!

OH MY GOD! I can’t believe it! Mr. Tom has gone against everything he’s ever told us about VR, and how awful it was, and how he’d never use it. But look at him up here. He’s using VR to play virtual reality golf!

I may be 27 now, and freaking ancient, but seeing an 80-year old Mr. Tom in “those ugly, good for nothing, spawn of the devil himself” goggles playing VR Golf. Wow! Well, Happy Birthday anyway, Mr. T.

Chase Christou

12/16/22

A Woman Called Minty by Jayla Nickens-Gill

The students were tasked to enter one of three doors, marked YESTERDAY, TODAY, or TOMORROW.

YESTERDAY would allow them to experience any historical event, but not change the outcome. TODAY would place them in the middle of any current event. And TOMORROW would take them forward 12 years to celebrate what would then be Mr. Tom’s 80^th Birthday.

JAYLA feels the pain of slavery and meets a woman called Minty.

A Woman Called Minty

I open the door to Yesterday. I walk through and it feels like I’m falling until, suddenly, I slam into the ground. I look around and see nothing but African Americans being whipped, people crying out, others picking cotton. Suddenly, a huge force connects with my face. I cry out in pain only to be hit again. The brutal force inflicted on me left me extremely confused. After a while, the hits stopped, and the white man walked off. My body ached. The amount of pain was enough to make someone want to end their life.

“Get up” a woman said. “Get to work before he brings more.”

The woman walked off and went back to doing the tasks given to her. I managed to sum up enough energy to get close to her. I started picking cotton as well, my body still burning from the punishment before.

“Where am I?” I asked

“Dorchester County” the woman said

“W-What’s your name?” I asked the woman

“Minty” she said. “Stop talking before you get us both whipped or worse… killed.”

I nodded and continued picking the cotton. My fingers bled and hurt after 12 hours of picking. Finally sunset came and we were told to go to our slave quarters. It was terrible, the smell was horrible and the bathroom, or bucket, was always filled with poop and urine. Other slaves were getting sick, and most of them died inside the quarter. We were told to move the dead slaves, so the white man could make room for the new ones.

Years passed. It was now 1844, and Minty was long gone. She managed to escape after getting married. I longed for her to come back and save me from the constant punishments. Since she left, I’ve been whipped brutally. I’ve lost two of my fingers, been raped, hung by my arms and feet. I can’t even remember my own name or what I look like. I’ve lost an insane amount of weight, I feel sick and I know I look dead, might as well be dead. My back has fresh wounds that I know are infected. Other slaves try to help with my injuries but without proper medication and medical care, it’s no use. My hands are covered with dry blood and cuts, my legs have markings from whippings, and my hair has mostly fallen out. I can’t walk straight for I fear my wounds that have slightly healed might rip open.

More years pass and the plantation has been looking less full. Many slaves have disappeared. The white man grew angry, whipping any slave he saw slacking, or moving too slowly. Night came, and I was awoken by a familiar face. Minty. She told me to be quiet and never make any sound if I wanted to leave alive. We went through an extremely long journey. I don’t know how many days went by but it felt like forever. Many slaves were lost along the way, many died from their injuries, and many were spotted and killed. Although I felt like I was slowly dying with every step I took, I refused to go back. I had to keep moving.

It was now 1859. I am now a free woman. After Minty, now known as Harriet Tubman, helped me escape, I married and live in a small house. The trauma stays with me. When I look in the mirror, my scars remind me of the past.

I opened the door to my room and a white light flashes me. I’m back in the present, sitting at the table, staring at my computer screen. I think I’m going to write about slavery.

Jayla Nickens-Gill
12/2/2022