It seems that finally, Spring has finally sprung! Our Spring 2022 edition deals with themes of transformation and growth and the changes that have come in the new year. However difficult this school year has come to be, summer is on the horizon and life is slowly but surely returning to normal.

The STRIPES staff hopes that all our readers enjoy the Spring 2022 edition of STRIPES!



Art by: Sharon Ramos

by Sharon Ramos 

Thou rarely acquires the chance to see a garth of flowers

And not just one of only one kind 

Yet of multiple kinds, betwixt amongst each other

A sea of solferino and gold 

Across the field of my brain

Although there are only three 

Thou denote something to thee.


The foremost is a sunflower, so gay and painted in meline.

Thou are stupefyingly amorevolous with their rings of fire.

And come as a sanative to the healing heart of thy brain.


The successor is a foxglove, often seen as duplicitous but somehow therapeutic.

Thou has plagued me with thy spell whereas yet it fills me such dynamism, thou cannot withstand it.

Such pride but ingenuity and aim.


The final of thy garth is a daffodil, such a peculiar floret. Miniature and swathed with flaxen. Thou are the most contemporary yet periodic: Nevertheless, thy stand dearest with thee. Thou do not wilt when the seasons alter instead: thou alter alongside it. Thou change into puffs of white that blow thee away.


The garth across my brain is not a garth I visit often, but as the seasons arrive and depart, the florets keep here across the fields of thy head.


by Arden Gonzalez

For the past two years we’ve seen nothing but eyes

No more mouthing words to your friends in classrooms

Or noticing cheeks blush like roses on a warm Spring day

We got used to the loss of connection 

Yet, at the beginning of March, all of that came back

I hadn’t even seen what was underneath most of these masks 

But here I am, sitting in class, finally able to admire the dimples on a laughing face again


Artwork by: Dasan Kelton

A collection of poems inspired by The Alchemist by Paolo Coehlo



by Jake Decker

He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep that still 

slept. Some mysterious energy bound his life to that of the sheep,

boy prodded them, one by one, with his crook,

calling each by name. He had always believed that the sheep were able to understand what he said.

had spoken to them about only one thing: the girl, the daughter of a merchant who lived in the village

The merchant was the proprietor of a dry goods shop, and he always demanded that the sheep be sheared in his presence,

Lots of shepherds passed through, selling their wool.

he said to his sheep. “I know other girls in other places.”

the shepherd urged his sheep in the direction of the sun.



by Nicholas Meli

They desired me to be a priest

I couldn’t have found God in the seminary

And because I am not wise

I have had to discover the reading of palms

Learned to acknowledge omens and succeed in them

I don’t know how turning now them into reality…

I promised that I’d make my own decisions

It’s easy, and yet I’ve never done it before

Now it’s too late to change a bit

Our lives become controlled by fate

That’s the world’s greatest lie



by Annabelle Medina 

Food and water

I became a monster

Aware the boy had been haunted

He was sixteen and like sheep

He had been summoned

Maybe we’re all that way

The boy had already begun to quietly pray

Jesus, he reassures himself

His hands began to tremble

The boy laughed, he became a monster 


Artwork by: Sara Salluce

by Angie Freese 

The current was visible in the dark

The eyes were dulled and hard to tell things apart

With the continuous staring through the scrying mirror

The color of the Earth seemed to be as bland as a false seer

Eventually the sight steered away

Colors were emerging and everything changed

From a daily routine turning the cogs of a machine

One fell out and rolled toward the stream

As they begin to float they finally know

The true meaning of the world that wasn’t shown


by Izzy Sanchez

The water splashes on my face

mascara running, stripes

of black on my cheeks, stains

of red on my hands 

rinsed away.

words ring in my ears

over and

over and over and

over and

I laugh.

The body was found

by the river and

I sob. 

brown dirt and earth are finally 

washed off and i hear words again.

the lacerations on the

Body are 

similar to those of tiger claws and I pause.

Is that true?

this seems to be a crime of

passion. and I scoff.


there was no passion in the way 

he looked at me

no passion in the way he roared 

I’ll kill you

no passion in the way he 

held the hand rake with 

shaky hands

no passion in the way he laughed with each new tear he made

in my skin


painfully slow.

I look in the river

my reflection rippling

tinted with my blood and dirt. i refuse to 

look at my body.

I don’t want to see

the marks 

He made.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

and I walked away.


The Body is gone!

it’s almost as if she up and

walked away.


The following stories are inspired by The Crucible by Arthur Miller.



by Serene Appiah

Hello there, I am John Proctor. I’m a farmer and a landowner in Massachusetts Bay Colony. I’m married to Elizabeth Proctor, and I am the father of three boys. There’s been a terrible mistake. I have been accused of being something that I am not. A wizard. I truly never practiced witchcraft, yet I am being accused. When put at the center of such an unlawful accusation, the judges have left me with two choices. One, deny. Deny, deny, deny. I can stand up for myself and tell them that I never have, and never will practice witchcraft! Sounds tempting, doesn’t it? But of course, there is a flaw to this choice. If I deny the accusation, I will be hanged. The other choice is to confess. Confess to the judges that I indeed practice witchcraft. This will lead to a lesser punishment. But at what cost? I would be lying not only to the judges, but I would be lying to myself. And everybody else in Salem!

I bet you wonder how I got here in the first place. You see, my life isn’t the greatest. I have gotten into many fights since I’ve been in Salem. I’m seen to be more of a blunt, aggressive man. Many of those who have had problems with me came forward and spoke out. Mary and Abigail went ahead to say that my spirit was haunting people. When I first found out that I was being accused of witchcraft, I was angry. Livid, even. Mary and Abigail are just threatened by my power over them. And of course, just my luck, there are several things that can be used against me. It is now April 11th, and my wife and I were brought into court for an examination. On the way to the courthouse, we shared a few words:

“We will not get a fair trial in Salem, Elizabeth.”

She sighed, clearly distraught. “I am aware, John, but what else are we to do?”

I started to think very hard. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect from the examination.

She started to weep. “We have a little one on the way, John. We can’t live without each other. Just confess so we can get out of this horrible mess.”

“I will not confess to something I did not do! My morals say otherwise.”

“The same morals you used when you had an affair?” she asked coldly. I looked at her in shock. We had agreed to never bring it up again.

“Elizabeth, please. Do not bring that up. I will not be confessing to things that I do not partake in.”

“Okay.” She turned away from me. Was she seriously that upset? I did not have time for this. She shook her head. “If you’d rather be hung than raise your own child, so be it! I will find a way out of this for myself.”

From then on, it was decided what my fate would be. The examination proved us guilty and sent us to be incarcerated in the Salem Jail. A few days later, I sat in jail, knowing that I was going to be hanged. I did not want to confess to doing something that I did not do. On my character, it looked horrific. Surely God would accept me for doing what I thought was right. Not lying to the judges. I wrote a letter to the ministers of Boston, pleading that we could get our trial pushed to a later date, and I explained the severe treatment we had all been receiving in order to give confessions. I never cracked, although I desperately wanted to at times. Despite my efforts, the ministers did not buy anything I had tried to sell. Before I go, I want to say I hope that Elizabeth finds peace.

John Proctor was hanged shortly after the events that took place. He believed that his legacy was the most important thing, so he decided to tell the truth, and honor that legacy. Now his children will continue to grow up without a father in their lives, but they will soon learn that he did this for them.



by Yohanes Conte 

My name is John Proctor. This past week has been quite the nightmare, and it was as if my whole world was hanging in the balance of a single decision. I come from the quaint little town of Salem, Massachusetts. The year is 1692 and life is as ordinary as it is bleak, but that would all change due to some little rascals that accused me and others of being witches. Never would I have thought it would escalate to what it had eventually become. I have been given one of two options: death or to lie about being a witch. Both are unruly, but life as a sinner is none like that of a saint. I must do what I believe to be right.

Late on one Thursday evening was when I first heard the news.

“Confess or be condemned.”  There was something in the air, not just paranoia and greed, but the disappointment that spread from the reaches of every man and woman who understood that this would leave a permanent mark on this town for centuries to come. The first person I had to inform was my dear wife Elizabeth. I asked her, “ What should I do ?”

She responded, “Life should be preserved over morality.” So she did what she had to do to uphold our reputation, and her words were a comfort like a pillow to my ears. Through thick and thin, we eventually came to the decision that we should knowingly stand in front of the consequences before these accusations with our heads held high. And not sign the confession, for it was untrue.

My life given may have saved many more and might be a symbol to end this tragedy. Retaining my name without tarnish is very important; denouement from a man of honor may turn the tide of the Salem witch trials, and hopefully shall bring them to an end. On August 19, 1692, I was hanged, and my life came to an end, but my legacy lives on. Remembering past mistakes led me to who I am now. My journey shall inspire others. Like a seed in the wind or life on a rock. My final moments shared the sight of sore eyes seeing my wife for the last time, and as the dawn of my last breath came, I exclaimed “I have given you my soul; leave me my name!”



by Azariah Jimenez  

John Proctor, my time with him was like no other. It started out as an innocent crush, nothing more. Then, out of nowhere, it came to secret meet-ups and lies. I fell so deeply in love with this man that I would do anything to make him mine. Sadly, it was not as easy as I wished it to be because this man that I loved, was married. And unfortunately for me, all good things come to an end. When his wife found out, I was sure that he would choose me. Painfully, the man that I had come to love so deeply left me without so much as a goodbye. I needed him, I would do anything to get him back, even if it meant killing his wife. That’s when I found out about witchcraft and someone that knew how to do it. My aunt, a slave from Barbados, had to know how, so I begged and begged for her to help. When she finally said yes, I was elated. To make it less suspicious of my true plans, I invited my closest friends. I told them that she could help them get any man they wanted, and they believed it. The night came when we were doing the ritual, it was coming to an end and we were spotted. We tried to run as fast as we could but my cousin Betty was unable to move. Coincidentally, there was another young girl in town who was having the same problem. When people started to hear that two young girls were sick and unresponsive at the same time, they got scared.

The town started to suspect witchcraft, because what other logical explanation could there be? When the town heard about suspicions about witchcraft, my uncle was expected to handle it, as he was the head priest of Salem. Because he did not have much experience with witchcraft, he decided to have a reverend from Beverly, Massachusetts, to help in the trials. As more and more people were suspected and hung, more stories about us dancing in the woods were brought up. In attempts to save ourselves, we told the court that we had been seeing the spirits of people do bad things. But the time came when we had to choose ourselves or the ones we love. Mary Warren, a friend, and maid of my beloved John Proctor accused him of witchcraft. She had done it to try to make his words invalid to the court because he had been telling them that we were full of lies. After everything I have done for this man, he continues to let me down. After trying to reason with him, he becomes infuriated. In anger, he told the court about our affair. I stand there in shock as he tells the court about the things we have done, along with telling them that I am putting on an act out of jealousy for his wife.

When people found out about the affair, it was like everyone hated me. All throughout the court, I could hear the murmurs of the crowd: “Disgusting, homewrecker, disappointment.” What hurt the most was the look of rage on my uncle’s face when he heard these horrible stories. I would not take it. What if they did to me what they have done to all the others? What if I am hung? I was the reason those people had died, but I will not.

When my good friend Mercy and I snuck into my uncle’s house, she whispered, “Abigail, what are we doing here?” 

“We are getting money then leaving this place,” I replied back. As we walked into his bedroom I said, “ I will keep watch, you grab all the money.”

She quickly grabbed all the money from the box. “I’ve got it,” she announced. We ran out of the house as quickly as we could.

“Where will we go now?” Mercy asked. I had not thought of this, where would we go? Maybe Charleston? No, that was too close. Maybe we could leave the state? Wait, but what if they come looking for us in revenge? I was out of ideas until I remembered. In excitement I blurted out, “There is a ship leaving for Barbados at sunrise tomorrow.”

“Perfect, let us go there now to speak with the captain about letting us on!” she exclaimed.

On our way to the shipping docks, we passed the jail. I could not help but think about him. I stopped and stared at the entrance. As I stood there I whispered, “He told people, he made me an outcast; he doesn’t deserve my help.”

Just then I ran inside. I bribed the guard to let me see him; lucky it didn’t cost too much. When I opened the door, my heart sank to the floor. He was bruised, cut up, and looked half dead. “John, they are going to take you away in the morning. But, I found a ship that was going to Barbados. I have enough to pay for us to go,” I said frantically. He stared, not at me, but at the wall. He would not even look me in the eye. “I never wanted this for you. All I ever wanted was to have you to myself. Please come with me, John, or we may never see each other again.”

As those last words left my lips, John looked me in the eyes. “We will see each other again,” he hisses “In hell.” I stepped back, almost slipping, and ran out. The next morning Mercy and I boarded the ship. I took a deep breath as I look at Salem one last time before it dissipated into the morning fog.

When we got to Barbados I was amazed as it was very different then Salem. It was warm, yet raining. There were many people from England here; you could tell by their accents. As I walked off the boat, I started to remember everything Mercy and I  must do. We needed food, a place to stay, clothes, and a bath; there was so much to do.

“Listen Mercy there is a lot to do, so we need to focus.” I demanded.

“Right,” she exclaimed.

I pondered, “We should probably start by finding a job.”

Just then an older man came up and said, “I could help but overhear that you lovely young ladies are looking for a job.”

“What kind of job?” I wondered.

“Well, at the moment I am looking for two maids. Is that something you are interested in?”

I thought to myself, is this a good idea? How do I know he won’t try to hurt us? But then again, where were we going to get another job opportunity like this?  Finally, after long and hard thinking, we agreed to work for him. We found that he lives in a big house with his wife, his two daughters, and five sons. Luckily for us, most of them did not make too much of a mess. But his youngest son, on the other hand, was the worst to clean up after. But in the end, it was all worth it. After living in their house for a while, Mercy and I were finally able to move out and get a house of our own. We bought something small yet cozy. I still work for them to this day. Sometimes I think about the people back home. Like my uncle or Betty and John’s wife and kids. I wonder how life would have been so different if we had never danced in the woods that day. But we have made a good life here. I am happy and I am free to be who I am. And that is all I could ever ask for.



by Soul Mendez


Hello, my name is John Proctor. I am the husband of Elizabeth Proctor, and I am a farmer. I’ve recently come under fire for an accusation of being a witch. This all started when I made an assumption about a group of girls and said some things that I shouldn’t have. This then led to my maid being accused of being a witch, and she then accused me of being a wizard to save herself. I only have a couple of days to figure all of this out. I was told that if I signed a confession, I wouldn’t be hanged. However, I’d be lying, and is it really worth dying just because of my pride?

Even so, maybe I’m not such a lost cause. What if there’s still a way to prove my innocence? I can try to convince my maid, Abigail, to admit my innocence. I know that she’s in love with me, so maybe she’ll be willing to help me. “Abigail, please. We both don’t want me to die, and you’re my only hope. If you could just admit it,” I begged.

“Why don’t we just run away together and have a fresh start? ” asked Abigail.

“Don’t be foolish. I love my wife, and I’m never going to make such a grand error like that again out of respect for her.”

“Then I guess you’ll just rot in hell, you witch,” Abigail said furiously. “I guess then, and only then, will we meet again.” I guess now I have no choice but to sign the confession if I wish to survive.

Fast-forward, and it’s now the day for me to decide. I think I’m going to sign the confession.

“So which will it be? Will you finally confess to your sins or would you prefer to die? “asked Judge Danforth.

“I am an innocent man. I can assure you of that. But alas, I am also human, and if it’s the only way to survive, then I guess there isn’t much of a choice here is there?”

I signed the confession, but I won’t stop fighting for my justice. Eventually, an incident occurred which helped me get my innocence back. Everyone in Salem was starting to get accused of being witches to the point where everyone stopped believing them. From that point on, my confession was ripped, and I received a formal apology from Judge Danforth himself for not believing in me. Along with everyone else who went through the same. And this is the story of my life. 



The following pieces were inspired by William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet


by Charles Barnes

Hello, my name is Juliet and I’m here to tell you the story of how I ruled Verona and defeated the king. The year was 1545, I was 13 years old and in deep love with a man named Romeo. He was my everything. I was going to marry him and run away from home, but things didn’t go as planned. After a very big argument about missing gold, Romeo had no choice but to kill my dearest cousin Tybalt. Because of this disaster, Romeo was banished from the village of Verona. 

After Romeo was banished I was devastated so I went to see a priest for guidance.

“Friar Lawrence, Friar Lawrence!”

“Yes little one,” he said. 

“I need your help dearly.”

“About what?”

“Romeo, he has been banished, what should I do?”

“Go to the prince and beg, beg like you never have before.”

“Yes sir, I will sir thank you.” After that, I ran to the castle as quickly as I could and practically broke the doors down. I begged the prince to let Romeo back in, but he denied so I came up with a plan. I would marry the prince, kill him, then rule Verona and revoke Romeo’s banishment. It was perfect, so I set out to seduce the king, and after about 3 weeks it worked. He asked for my hand in marriage. After the wedding, I slipped poison into his morning coffee. He died right in my arms, still loyal to me, but I had a commitment to Romeo. 

After I was crowned as the new Queen, I ended Romeo’s banishment and he ran into my arms with a huge smile. After we got married our families still did not approve, so we still had to live in the shadows of our parents. It was difficult, but as queen, I made a law that parents can not intervene in relationships. After that rule was passed we lived in peace.




by Shayne Gonzalez 

I didn’t realize how everything would change on that fateful morning. I had been given the responsibility of looking after Juliet Capulet since she was born. As her nurse, I have formed a close bond with the beautiful girl I saw grow into a fine young woman. One morning, I was going into her room as usual, but today felt different. As I opened her bedroom doors, I found her lying still on her bed. It was unlike her to remain asleep so far into the day. I figured she was just tired from a long night last night, so I opened the curtains to let some light in. She didn’t move a muscle. The light was beaming straight on her face which would normally make someone move at least a little. I decided to get closer and examine her to make sure she was ok. I lightly moved her, and still, no response. It then dawned on me as if a sharp dagger was stabbed through my chest; She wasn’t breathing. I quickly checked her pulse on her wrist and didn’t feel a heartbeat. I touched her neck; nothing. I began to panic. She was dead.

This was my fault. I missed something. I was supposed to be her nurse and look after her. I didn’t want to believe that she was actually dead. I sat in the corner of her bedroom just watching her, in hopes that she would wake up. I kept blaming myself, because what else could have caused someone so young to die so unexpectedly?

Hours had passed, and I was still sitting in the same chair in the corner of her bedroom, staring at her dead body. It was now late at night and I was exhausted. I was been using every muscle in me to not fall asleep in case she wakes up. My eyes were so heavy and my blinks were getting slower. I ended up falling asleep, but I was still very aware of my surroundings. I jumped up when I heard the smallest movement coming from Juliet’s bed. When I opened my eyes, I found her sitting up in her bed. I immediately broke down crying. I was so happy she wasn’t dead. I ran to her and gave her the tightest hug. She looked very confused and just said, “It didn’t work” over and over. 

“What didn’t work?” I asked as I studied the face of the girl I thought I had just lost.

“Why am I still in my room? Where’s Romeo? ” Juliet said, in a panic.

“What are you talking about?” I questioned

“I drank a potion last night which was supposed to make me appear as if I wasn’t alive. I wanted everyone to think I was dead so I could run away and live with Romeo for the rest of my life,” Juliet confessed.

“You drank a potion that was going to kill you?” I wondered .

Her expression fell. “Yeah,” Juliet said in a quiet tone. 

“I can get you to Romeo without you killing yourself,” I said confidently. Juliet and I made a plan within five minutes. Because it was already night-time, she could sneak out and leave town to see her love without anyone noticing. I made sure the coast was clear and got her out of town without a single soul knowing. I quickly ran back to the house and went to bed after an exhausting night, wishing Romeo and Juliet a happy future together. 



The following stories were inspired by Ayn Rand’s Anthem.


by Dylan Ferrel

We have heard news of some citizens of this city wanting to leave and explore the Uncharted Forest and other places outside of our city. This will not be permitted under our power. In order to assure that this will not occur under our watch, today we will be telling you about someone who tried to leave and what happened to them. This story is about a young boy named Umber. He was 19 years old and an average street sweeper living the same as most of you. He was safe under our power but started to wonder about what was outside our city’s lines. One day, he had met two people by the names of Bacchus and Ember. They never questioned what was outside until Umber had mentioned it to them. 

Umber wondered what would happen if he were to travel to the Uncharted Forest which all citizens know is not allowed. He brought these thoughts and questions to his friends and convinced them to think about it and think about what kind of world could be outside of our city lines. One day he came to his friends Bacchus and Ember and said, “Let’s go. Let’s go explore the unknown. Maybe we will find greatness and we will be able to find a new land and create our own civilization.”

He was wrong. When the time finally came and they decided late at night they would go and find out what was outside and explore the Uncharted Forest, no one would ever see two of the three of them ever again. One of them, Ember, had returned. He would be the one to tell us the story of what happened to them that night, before he died of poisoning from being there soon after.

It is said that the Forest was full of fog, and no one was able to see anything even if it was right in front of them. He told us that the smell was unbearable and toxic. Ember would describe it as “the smell of gasoline and thick toxic fumes.” They would hear noises of cries and screams for help along with animals howling in the distance. He described the taste of the air as bitter and almost like the taste of cold black coffee. From what he could remember, there were miles and miles of nothingness. Not a tree or building to be found but the fog and the ground beneath them. As the fumes became unbearable, Ember started to feel as if his lungs were stopping in his body, but when he voiced this concern his friends, Bacchus and Umber, continued on without question. Ember started to feel faint and decided to come back to our city to get help. He called out to them before he left but had no response, he assumed they had passed out from the toxic fumes, but he was about to pass out himself and turned back to the city. When our doctors finally got to him, he was weak and unable to breathe on his own. He was told that if he lived through the night, he would need to be cared for all the time and be on oxygen for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, his lungs were too damaged from the fumes, and he died that night after telling us his story.

This is why we prohibit anyone from leaving to explore the Uncharted Forest. We want to protect you, the people of our city. This ban from leaving is for your own good. 




by Rosaela Jimenez


       My name is Cora. I am eighteen years old. I spent my whole childhood in this city. The only friend that I have is Everett. She knows everything about me and I know everything about her too. We work with peasants. It’s really not the best job because we did not have a choice.

While we were working, I heard someone talking about Uncharted Forest. They were saying that not a lot of people go to the Uncharted Forest, but they were saying the entrance was so beautiful. It seemed like it came out of a movie. When I heard what she said, I just knew that I had to take my chance and go. I was tired of living the life that I was living, so I started to plan to go to the Uncharted Forest.

            At midnight, I got my bookbag ready as I went outside. I had to make sure that no one was on watch. I made my way out, and had to walk a little bit more to get to the Uncharted Forest. When I got there, it had a warning sign, but I really didn’t care to read it because the forest was so beautiful.  As I walked in, everything looked like it came from a movie and I just couldn’t believe it. But just as I was walking more and more into the forest, it started to get dark and everything was changing. 

            The trees were very ugly and scary. The trees were lopsided. It even had a fingerprint of a wild animal that was called the Chupacabra. It was a vicious animal. His nails were extremely long and it looked like it could stab someone. His back was very pointy. He was so dark that you would’ve been able to see him. I wanted to go back, but the tree closed the way out. The trees were very huge and were able to move around the forest. They even had eyes, it felt like having a bad dream. 

     As I kept walking, I saw a clown with sharp teeth that started to chase me. I started to run as fast as I could. Coming to the Uncharted Forest was not a good idea. It was very dark, and food inside the forest was poisonous. The flowers that were once pretty had sharp teeth. As I kept walking, I saw the Chupacabra. It had red eyes, and once it saw me, it was coming after me. I started to take my shoes out and throw them at him, which wasn’t a good idea. The clown started to follow me once it heard me running 

        All I was thinking was starting to find a way out. I just wanted to get back and regret coming back. I couldn’t find my way back home and am still trying to find my way back home. 



by John Juhasz


Ambition 7-241 lived a life full of questionable actions. From robbing those around them to just preaching lies against the rulers of their society. Ambition 7-241 went about their day as if nothing is abnormal, bothering those around them like normal. Stealing from others for personal gain, then selling those belongings for currency. One day Ambition 7-241 would be caught but truthfully, who would know?

Thankfully, that day came when Ambition 7-241 would come across Guidance 3-12 while robbing Destiny-23 for exclusive limited-edition diamonds gifted to them by the group called the Executives. Guidance 3-12 made quick work of detaining Ambition 7-241 and seizing any stolen property. Unlike our society, in this one Ambition 7-241 was given no formal rights as in this instance they have none in this society. Ambition 7-241 was taken to the Complex which is where Collective 1-100 rules and administers formal law bringing upon criminals and deciding their fate. Ambition 7-241 was ultimately exiled to the Uncharted Forest, from which no one ever returned from there.

Ambition 7-241 was medically induced into a coma and blindfolded. Then suddenly Ambition 7-241 was thrown into the air and landed in between tree branches. Ambition 7-241 was quite strong and found their way through the almost inhabitable forest of blight and plague. While on this grand adventure through the forest Ambition 7-241 defeated grand and large crocodiles, felines, snakes, and other forest inhabitants. Eventually, Ambition 7-241 would find their way back to the gated community called society. Where all was bright and merry and everyone was as one once more. Once Ambition 7-241 reached the gates they murmured an incantation and the group of gate guardians marched forth and Ambition 7-241 found the key back into society. With Collective 1-100s secret challenge fulfilled Ambition 7-241 was recollected by Guidance 3-12 and released back into society. The Voice of the Collective 1-100 would finally announce the renewal and cleansing of Ambition 7-241’s former life and hinted at a new future for the being.



by Gillian Walker

I usually keep my head down, 

I usually stay quiet. 


This year, I will not back down, 

However, I will not cause a riot. 


You will hear my roar,

I will speak from my core,

You will hear me roar. 

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