Letter From The Editor

Dear Readers,  

The first month of 2013 is now over and as we enter the second semester at NSHAHS, we are dreading the work but looking forward to what the rest of the year has to offer us. There are only five more issues of The Written Voice for the 2012-13 school year and they are each going to be great! As usual, the creative masterminds of North Shore have found ample time in their busy schedules to continue their inventive efforts and contribute to the February issue. This issue contains an amalgam of imaginative poetry and personal stories in addition to a novel and a new novella. Make sure to check out our blog to read past issues of The Written Voice as well as participate in writing challenges and submit work that you would like to be considered for admission into the next issue. Enjoy North Shore and keep writing!

                                                                   Sincerely,

                                                                   Anna Hardcastle

Editor-in-Chief

Funny Trees

by Rachelle David

Trees, trees, the magical plant

The more we plant, the less we can’t

The less we can’t, the better breathe

And that is why now we don’t leave

Trees, trees, they are just like us

They are born, but they don’t cuss

Their birthdays have come, and we do celebrate

They celebrate ours, and that we can’t debate!

The Butterfly Effect (Part III)

by Rebecca Rosen

“Aldabert, you know we will end up together, what is all the fuss about? We both have the same grades in every class, participate in the same afterschool activities, I mean it is inevitable.” I said trying to reassure myself more than anyone.

“We do not know that for sure until the day of, Beata! What if we are separated, then what, huh? Are you just going to wag your finger in the government’s face’s and say ‘no I belong elsewhere,’ or, ‘you guys made a mistake?’ It’s rubbish! There is always that slight chance, Beata, and I do not think you get it!” He’s shaking now.  What is going on?

“Aldabert, I will say it again, I am sorry for acting this way, it is just I have been thinking a lot about us lately.  You are the closest thing I have to family, and in seven days you can be taken from me just as quickly as my real family was.  I do not know how to cope with it.” Oh no, I feel the water works coming. “Aldabert, I can’t loose you too…” Here we go.  I start to sob into my hand, embarrassed for Aldabert to see me this way.  I stop my selfish sobs for a moment and look up. 

“Aldabert?” Where in the world is he?

“Aldabert, seriously?” Complete silence is the only response. 

“ALDABERT! WHERE ARE YOU?” I scream with all the voice I have left.  It sounds broken, scratched, worn. 

I wait about three minutes but begin to become impatient so I start gathering my things.  I put my shoes back on and fold the blanket. 

I bring it with me just in case Aldabert does not return to gather his things. 

“C’mon Bessie, let’s go.”

The sun starts to set and the mosquitoes are beginning to feast on my flesh.  I stop to scratch my leg when I hear cracking twigs. 

“Who is there?” I ask.  Another crack of a twig, it seems to be getting closer. 

“Answer me, who goes there!”

I look in all directions; it is dusk now.  The trees all seem to blend together in an endless sea of green.  I cannot tell which way is the way I came; which is the way out? I try to listen for the sounds of townspeople, but all I can hear is my heavy breathing and the thud of my quickening heartbeat.  I start to sweat and realize what if I don’t get out of here before morning? What will the guards say? All of a sudden, I hear breathing behind me.  I turn around and standing there in front of me is a black, hooded figure.  He is holding a syringe, and I cannot see his face.

“Aldabert?”

And suddenly, everything goes a blinding white. 

I do not dream at all that night.

I am awaked suddenly by the whispering of my name in my ear. 

“Beata, Beata can you hear me?”

I open my eyes and there he is, Aldabert, without a scratch. 

“Listen, Beata, I know you are angry about yesterday, but I had to go.  This whole situation was just a little too intense for me and I had to take a breather.  I came back five minutes later and you were gone, along with all of my stuff.  That is when I began to get worried.  I looked around the entire perimeter of the lake and could not find you anywhere, and that is when I heard Bessie barking furiously. I followed her barking, and that is when I saw you, lying there on the forest floor.  At first I thought you were playing some sick joke on me, so I shook you, you know, playing along.  It is when you did not move that I got even more worried. I checked for a pulse; steady but low, and you were definitely unconscious.  I had to get you help so I ran you over to the nearest house and asked to use their phone to call your guards.  Beata, I was gone for five minutes! How did you manage to get yourself into trouble?”

“Aldabert.  It is nice to see you, too!” I say, sounding very, very tipsy, slurring my words.

“Beata, this is not a joke.  Why were you unconscious in the middle of the forest? What happened to you?” Aldabert looked like one of those puppies you find sitting on a street corner all alone.  I just want to hug him until he explodes. 

He begins to shake me, “Beata pay attention! What happened?”

“I was walking, and trying to find you.  I gave up eventually and gathered our things up and started to head out with Bess.  I was walking when I heard footsteps behind me and twigs snapping.  I yelled for you so many times and at that point it was already beginning to get dark.  I could not find which way was which and that is when I saw it.”

“Beata, what did you see?”

“I saw,” and I start to stutter.  Not only do I stutter, but I begin to convulse.  I can feel the foam pouring from my mouth. I can hear the guards telling Aldabert that he needs to leave now and not to try getting in contact with me.  I am shaking so much, everything is blurry.  I am just about to give up…

And then it stops, and I am completely fine.  Wait, what just happened? I look to my sides and see that both of my guards are holding down my arms and trying as best as they can not to self destruct.  I whisper “I’m sorry,” to both of them and turn over to look at my digital clock.  It reads 12:00 PM in its holographic yellow letters.  My eyes feel heavy as does my entire body.  A little nap couldn’t hurt anybody, right?

I am startled awake by my reoccurring nightmare and look at my clock.  It reads 3:30 PM.  Oh, three hours, that is not so bad.  I stand up and walk to the kitchen. The female guard is standing in the doorway. 

“Hi,” I say.

“How did you sleep?” she asks me.

“Same as usual,” I respond. 

“You have been sleeping for a long while now,” she says.

“What do you mean? I have only been sleeping for three and a half hours.”

“You have been asleep for two days straight, Beata,” she answers. 

“Two days straight! What is today’s date!” I yell a little bit louder than necessary. 

“June the twenty third,” it answers me. 

Tomorrow is the day of the sorting.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“ As I said, about two days”

“I need to see Aldabert. Now.”

“So sorry Beata, doctors orders are that you must stay home in bed, no visitors at all.”

Are you kidding me? I wonder if I could get any luckier.  They day before the sorting and I am stuck at home in bed?

“I need to use the phone”

“To speak to whom?”

“None of your business.” I start to get annoyed

“As your guard I must know who you associate yourself with.”

“You know what, you might be my guard, but you are NOT AT ALL my parent!”

I storm out of the room, hatred coursing through my veins.  I feel it growing larger, this feeling, in the pit of my stomach, begging to rip my body open and attack anyone in its way.  Good, let it attack anybody, I do not care anymore. The one person in the world who actually means something to me is not allowed anywhere near me? Screw this.  I am done.

“I am leaving! Goodbye!” I shout while storming through the kitchen.  I hope they heard me.  Bessie follows behind me, prancing. 

“Oh no you are not,” the male guard says, standing suddenly before me.  It speaks in a sarcastic tone, one I have never heard come out of his mouth.  

I continue to stomp throughout the house like a spoiled five year old, but I do not care.  They deserve this, they all deserve this. 

“Don’t try to stop me.  I will be out of your lives soon enough, and one day won’t make a difference I am sure.” I spit in their faces.  I reach my hand towards the door and I feel empowered.  I have never stood up to them before.  I open the door wide and breathe in a gust of fresh air.  I start running down the pathway when I feel something. Something is holding me back, like a force field that is drawing me nearer to the house, and farther away from the outside world.  My feet are moving backward but my mind tries to push them forward.  Before I can count to three I am back inside the house, standing by the door, my back facing the guards.  I turn around and see the crimson in their eyes.  The frustrated look on their faces.  They are doing this to me.  They are drawing me back to the house.  Have I lost complete control of my life?

To Be Continued…

Novella (Part I)

by Rachelle David

“She seemed fine at first.  After a few steps, she looked a little confused.  She started to breath loudly.  Hyperventilating, more like.  Then, she fell…unconscious.”

“Or dead?”

“Yes.  D-d-d-d-dead.  She died right there in front of us,” witness number one said through sobs and tears.  The witness seemed so sad, but Dr. Brapvy was not yet convinced. 

“Where was this?  Who are the ‘us’?”  Dr. Brapvy needed to understand everything. Witness number one, known as Anthony by his friends, was not a good first witness. His memory was too clouded by sadness and drama. The Doctor could see the witness’s eyes never fully looking into his own. Anthony mainly tried to stare at various objects in the dark room or simply keep his eyes shut. At least he was open and wanted to find the cause of his sister’s death.

Anthony said with his head sinking into his hands, “Every year on March 16^th there is a dinner for all the members of the Noble Knights House.  It is more like a feast.  Every person who lives or practically lives in the house is invited to the meal.  Even the servants are invited.  Every person is treated like an equal and we all dine together.”

The Doctor was scribbling on his notepad something in a hurry.  When he looked up he asked, “You said ‘practically’ lives there.  What does that mean?”

The man looked up, surprised, and said, “Well, the word house does not describe the Noble Knights House.  The word mansion does not do it justice.  Imagine a whole acre of land filled with a five-story high building.  That is what the house is similar to.  A lot of people live there and the workers have a minimum of 13 hours per day that they work.  You can imagine the amount of workers that a house that size has.”  He seemed slightly distracted from the death of his sister.  Maybe this distraction could supply the Doctor with some real facts.

“So how does this dinner work?”

“Actually, it is a lot of fun.  We all have random assigned seating.  Shockingly, it is really interesting to speak with the servants and guests that you do not see because the house is so big.  As I said, everyone is treated equally and there are no grand entrances; except, of course, my sister.  She had a simple entrance.  All she did was have a slight introduction and walk in.  It was then that she… she… she… “  The witness fell back as a wave of grief hit him.

“Yes.  Thank you very much, Anthony.  I will call you in for further questioning in about a week.  If you remember any essential information, feel free to call me and please do.”  Dr. Brapvy gave Anthony his card.

“Goodbye, Doctor,” Anthony said as he sniffled.

The Doctor shut off his recorder and began to pace across his office.  The office was small and dirty.  There were some paintings on the wall of jails and policemen.  There was also a waiting room right next door.  Mr. Cameroon worked in there.  The Doctor liked his little office.  He did most of his thinking in there.  He had his suspicions about who killed Roxanne.   In fact, I already have my own suspicions about who killed her.  Actually, this mystery is quite old so I have a bit of an advantage.  I am thousands, if not millions of years old.  But I digress; let us get back to his story.  It is not about me, of course.  Where were we?  Ah, yes here: There where thousands of witnesses and he most certainly had his work cut out for him.  Any one of them could have murdered her.  She was the owner of the house and therefore incredibly rich.  The only problem was that no one there got the inheritance.  Roxanne gave all her money and possessions to the Noble Knights Organization, which funded the Noble Knights House.  The Doctor widened his eyes, then opened his pad and made a note.  It read, “Ask witnesses about the point of the Noble Knights Organization.”  Dr. Brapvy had no idea what this organization was about and he had never heard of it. 

“Mr. Cameroon, please send in witness number two.  Quickly please.  We have a busy day ahead of us.”

The man stood behind a shadow and waited.  He tried to relax but could not.  He was too nervous to sit.  He was terrified that someone would find him.  He just wanted to be alone and happy with the whole incident behind him.  He still could not believe that he had that kind of power.

“Mr. Cameroon, I told you to send in my next witness.  Hurry up.  I have dinner plans and I need to get through at least two-dozen witnesses.  That is only a dent in the thousands of people who were there.  Oh, and please stop by the body examiners.  I need the cause of death as soon as they have it.  Mr. Cameroon?  Where are you?”  The Doctor was not happy.  Dr. Brapvy was tired of the horrible assistants of the past.  He had finally found one who was worth keeping and he was not going to let one case drive this guy away.  I have heard that it was very difficult at that time to find a worker who would actually work.  People would just sit in a bar and pretend to be at work.  They would even get paid.  They lied and were encouraged to do so.  Outrageous!  Anyway, Dr. Brapvy lived in a mystery so he decided to investigate.  Mr. Cameroon was not at his desk.  Dr. Brapvy looked around the small waiting room.  Then, he saw it.  The man was hunched in the corner, shaking.  Dr. Brapvy did not recognize the man, but he wanted some answers.  “Who are you?  Do not be scared.  I will not hurt you.  Come out of the corner, please,” Dr. Brapvy said slowly and calmly.

“I am Sebastian and I killed Roxanne Anderson.”

The man could not believe what he had done.  He was officially a sinner and a criminal.  He felt as though some dirty gangster possessed him at times and he would suddenly wake up and finish the job himself.  There was definitely something wrong with him.  When the whole story got out and was eventually forgotten, he would have time to ponder over his psychotic behavior.  But for now, he had business to take care of.

“Thank you very much for your time, Sebastian.  You must not forget about calling that…specialist.  Expect a call from my office for further questioning.  Good-bye.” He opened the door for Sebastian and left it open after the man left.  Dr. Brapvy hated dealing with the grief filled witnesses.  Although he was a doctor, he did not like helping people heal mentally or physically. 

The Doctor decided to check on his assistant.  He exited his cozy little office and saw Mr. Cameroon immediately.  He was preparing himself to give a lecture but Mr. Cameroon beat him for the first word and said quickly, “Doctor, are you alright?  To whom were you talking just now?” 

Dr. Brapvy hated when his assistant spoke to him before the Doctor spoke.  Dr. Brapvy always ignored the assistant’s senseless questions. He had his own pointless questions and he had the right to ask them.  Instead of answering he said, “Where were you?  I was worried.  There is a big, bad world out there with murderers, psychos, and drug addicts that would easily do terrible things to a man your age.  You must be careful out there.  I do not want to be investigating your murder or kidnapping.” 

“You sound just like my mother when I come home two minutes after curfew.  Anyway, I was here the whole time.  You seem to be loosing a bit of your marbles, Doctor,” Mr. Cameroon answered frankly.

Dr. Brapvy raised one eyebrow and said, “No.  I let the witness leave, I called for you to send in the next one, but you did not answer.  I was concerned so I came out to check on you and found your desk empty.  There was a man in the corner instead and it turns out that the man in the corner was Roxanne’s adopted son.  He was the replacement for the next witness who was…”

Mr. Cameroon sighed.  Dr. Brapvy always seemed to know everything but wanted others to put it to words.  He answered, “Connor the Cook.  What a name, right?”

“Yes, Connor the Cook, so you need to put Sebastian in the records instead.”

“I will immediately, Doctor. I can tell that you really care about me, Doctor, being so worried and all.  I have to say, I really am touched by your concern.  And for the record, I was here the whole time.”

“I have no time for your childish games and if you really were here the whole time, then do you remember when the man entered this room?  Thought not.  You are supposed to record all the comings and goings of this office.  Do not force me to eliminate you.”  The Doctor did not really care about Mr. Cameroon not being in the office at all hours but he preferred to be told when he would be alone in the office.  He did care a lot about Mr. Cameroon’s well being even if he hated to admit it.  

“So what did this replacement witness say?” Mr. Cameroon asked cautiously.  He did not want to upset the Doctor.

“Well, he was a bit crazy but I referred him to Trina.  You remember Trina, right?  The therapist who helped us solve with the Cox case?  He told me that he killed Roxanne.  His name is Sebastian.  It turns out that it was just guilt but he is definitely on the suspect list.  Mentally unstable people are very dangerous.  Keep that in mind when you enter the working adults club.  Anyway, Sebastian told me more about the Noble Knights Organization or NKO.  I want you to find out all that you can about it.  He told me that the Organization is meant to help immigrants from America find jobs and transition into the European lifestyle.  The Swiss way is very different from the American way.  If that is the case, and I am not sure that it is, then I want to know why Roxanne gave NKO everything.  I should go to the house and find out how it really works.”  Dr. Brapvey took his coat out from the closet, picked up his hat, and left the office. 

Mr. Cameroon was glad to see him leave.  He loved his job but he thought that Dr. Brapvy might need to visit Trina himself soon.  Mr. Cameroon had no idea what the Doctor was talking about.  He was sitting at his desk the whole time.  He never heard Dr. Brapvy call him to send in the next witness.  He never saw any Sebastian or man in a corner.  There was something very strange happening.  Mr. Cameroon still needed his job to pay for school so he had to get back to work.  He had lived in Switzerland all his life and had never even heard of the Noble Knights Organization. This case was getting more curious by the second. 

The house was nothing like Dr. Brapvy had pictured it.  When Anthony described it to him, the Doctor thought that the grief stricken man was exaggerating.  Little did he know that the house was actually 4,050 square meters. It was massive.  I still do not know how the people who work or live there did not get lost in the building.  He first looked around the courtyard. They even had a courtyard.  Where did they have room for all that?  Back to Dr. Brapvy; he found that around the building there were forests.  He still did not completely understand the annual dinner and if there was a window somewhere in the room, then the killer could have shot her through the window from the trees.  Then, he knocked on the door.  A small woman answered the door.  She was wearing a short, green skirt and a loose-fitting, purple shirt.  She was short and thin with very dark hair and pale skin.  The Doctor did not wait for her to speak first.  He said, “Hello, madam.  I am Dr. Brapvy and am the detective on the case of Roxanne Anderson.  May I please enter and look around?”

“Of course, Doctor.  If you need anything just ask,” the woman answered friendly. “Oh, and I am Aracelli.  I work in one of the various offices of this house.”  She stepped aside and the Doctor walked into a small mudroom.

Dr. Brapvy pulled out his notepad and began scribbling.  “I think it is better if someone comes with me so that I do not get lost,” he said without looking up.

“That is a terrific idea, Dr. Brapvy, right?  Your name is Brapvy?”  The woman said carefully.

“Yes that is my name.  And what did you say that you do here?  Would you please specify your exact career description?” Dr. Brapvy said rather quickly.  He was starting not to like this woman.

“I did not reveal to you my job and I do not plan on it,” Aracelli stated plainly.

“Alright then, can you find someone to take me around the house, please?”

“Right.  Now that I think about it, no one is available at the moment and I need to get back to work.  You can find the door, can you not?”

“Get back to your work doing…?”

“You are not getting anything out of me.  That is all that I am saying.  Goodbye.”

“So when is a good time for me to come and look around?”

“Have a nice day, Doctor.”  Aracelli slammed the door, left and did not look back through the window at the Doctor to make sure that he had left.  That was the usual routine and she did not think twice about breaking it.

Dr. Brapvy was not shocked.  In previous cases, he had pretty reluctant witnesses and he could not get any information out of them.  He just hoped that the rest of the members were not as secretive.  He already had spoken to witnesses and received some information.  That was definitely not enough.  He needed to find more people who lived in the house.  If the house was that big, then there would need to be more than one entrance.  He decided to take a trip around the perimeter of the house and find the other entrances. 

He pulled out his note pad and tried to sketch the house, the surrounding forests, the windows, and the doors.  He did his best, as always, but his artistic skills were not nearly as developed as some of his former assistants who would accompany him on his travels.  I remember hearing about this one who was so good that when the Doctor finally got tired of her, she decided to go to art school and is now an incredibly famous artist.  Nevertheless, Dr. Brapvy did find another door.  He knocked on it and a man answered the door. 

“Hi.  Who are you?  Would you like to come in?”  The man stepped aside and Dr. Brapvy entered.  His first time in the house was shocking.  As big as it looked from the outside, the inside looked even bigger.  There was an elegant rug on the floor and a gorgeous mural on the ceiling.  It looked similar to a cathedral’s ceiling.  It had a pale red outer oval with a semi-pale yellow inner layer.  In the center was a woman holding a small piece of dark green fluff.  The woman looked startled yet controlled. It was unnerving how she appeared to have two different expressions.  It was too difficult to look away from it but Dr. Brapvy forced himself to tear his eyes away.  As beautiful as it looked, the ceiling was nothing compared to the rest of the room.  It was fairly dark in the room and very earthy.  Everything was wooden.  The chairs were wooden, the walls were wooden, the furniture was wooden except for the cushions, the floors were wooden, and even the ornaments were wooden.  The Doctor was slightly overwhelmed by all the wood.  This place was termite heaven.  The ornaments were quite beautiful.  There were some sculptures, made of wood, that were exceptional.  They were painted and looked like people.  One looked just like the man who opened the door.  The Doctor immediately pulled out his note pad and again tried to draw the house.  The man looked at him and said, “I am sorry, sir, but it is not permitted for visitors to photograph or draw the house.  You, sir, are no exception and what is your name?”

Dr. Brapvy hoped that all the members of this house were not so cross.  These people were a little too secretive for Dr. Brapvy’s liking.  It was time for some under-cover work. 

“I am Luke Nielson and I am looking for a place to work.  I heard that this is the place for a guy like me to be.  I just want to sketch what the entrance looks likes so that I do not get lost, that is if I get accepted.”  Dr. Brapvy tried his best to sound foreign.  He was not a good actor.  He could easily lie and keep up his act but accents were not his forte.  He hoped that the man did not notice.  “What is your name?  I want to know as many people as I can and make friends,” Dr. Brapvy added quickly.

To Be Continued…

A Helping Hand

by Sherry Simkovic

Tripping and trembling
Unsteady on my own two feet
Quaking legs
Like a young horse's
Sent out into the world
Only to return
Bitter Defeat stinging my tongue
Thought you had given me
The tools to succeed
The lessons to live by
The morals to have
Call me soulless and empty
As I begin to fall
Rather than help me up
You bring me even farther down
So tell me
You taught me to handle it
Enlighten me
As to what is wrong with my spirit
And I'll stand here and take it
Because that is what I do
After a few moments
You'll dangle the carrot once again
You and your cogent ways always convincing me to venture out
Try try and try again
Encouraging pats
Supportive smiles
The world is my oyster
You say
And yet
A crack opens up
The earth has betrayed me
The abyss too wide to jump
No way around
I turn around
With burning eyes
A choking throat
An aching heart
Comes the time to begin again

The Doctor

by Jonathan Schneck

The Doctor’s Prologue: There is a cerebral DOCTOR, a neurologist, spry in his older years, with his wit intact, who remains dedicated to his patients even as he is in the middle of his ninth decade. He is a humble fellow with a quiet humor and a keen mind, surprisingly mischievous but never hurtful. One would be surprised to learn that this unassuming gentleman is a widely published researcher, author of a neurology textbook and among his vast accomplishments is the isolation of the Tay Sachs gene in amniotic fluid. This gentleman’s research has led to modern day genetic counseling and testing of Ashkenazi Jews for this virulent gene. In this day, most are unaware of his academic accomplishments and he is admired by the younger generation for his humor and gentle manner, for his words are never harsh. He has thirteen grandchildren who are born of his children and is surrounded by many others who are not his progenies. The boys may be found huddled around this good man, with heads bent forward so as to not miss a word. The stories are colorful and the mothers tolerate their telling because the good Doctor flatters them and his eyes twinkle as he uses his age to his advantage, so that he cannot be held accountable for his actions. Here begins the tale of the Doctor.

The Doctor’s Tale: This is my life. It was the thirties and times were different. My grandfather was a grocer. As a boy I lived in the Lower East Side just behind the store and my grandparents lived across the street. We didn’t have much but we were happy with our portion. Back then, there wasn’t television and so we didn’t know about anything better. After school and on Sundays I worked in the store. I started to work when I was around 9 years old and since that time I have always worked. When I wasn’t working, I would hang out with my friends. In that time the neighborhood was segregated; on one side of the Williamsburg Bridge were the Italians and on the other side were the Jews. I joined the Jewish gang and my closest friends were Sam who is now an attorney; Charlie who became a furniture salesman; and Arnold Schuster who was killed for fingering the infamous bank robber Willie Sutton. The three were also my schoolmates; they were among the most intelligent in the class but not particularly industrious, and though they achieved high marks, they were better known for their shenanigans. When I was eleven, I became the leader of my gang. This is because I fashioned a weapon by combining three or four zip guns creating a sort of machine gun that shot out linoleum that we cut into squares and used as ammunition.

During the Depression, my grandfather would give our neighbors food on credit. Most of his customers were Jewish and for the holidays, he made sure that everyone had food. He kept track of the credit on brown paper bags, and that was how it was done. Then an A & P opened up down the street – that’s the Atlantic & Pacific market. The same folks, who were on credit, began shopping at the A & P down the street to save a couple of pennies. This forced my grandfather out of business and so we moved. That is how it was.

My family moved to Brooklyn, 44^th and 8^th, where we lived over a candy store. My father was a union organizer and he also ran numbers. One of my high school teachers placed me in charge of research on fruit flies and this stimulated my interest in science. My mother was convinced that I had the potential to become a doctor.  In the 1940’s it was pretty common for the local high schools to administer an aptitude test that would help students decide on a future job or career choice. I was eager to take the test as I had my doubts about whether I had the skill set required to become a physician. Corroborating my doubts, the test results revealed that I did not have the attributes necessary to become a physician and I was counseled to pursue a career as a forest ranger. You can imagine that my mother was not too thrilled with the idea of me becoming a forest ranger. She took the test results from the assistant principal and tore the paper to shreds exclaiming, “What the heck do they know!”

I was drafted into the army when I was 18. But those stories are for another time. After I received an honorable discharge from the army, I went on to Brooklyn College. In my senior year, my organic chemistry professor recommended me for a research position at New York University Medical School. There I worked with Yeudfreund and Keston who developed PIPSYL, p-iodophenylsulfonyl-chloride, a radioactive tracer to measure brain metabolism. Dr. Yeudfreund encouraged me to medical school and because of his endorsement I received a scholarship to attend Chicago Medical School. 

A decade and half after taking my high school career aptitude test, I had just passed the neurology boards, and was vacationing with my wife and young children at Yellowstone National Park. Back then I smoked cigarettes, a habit that I picked up from the streets of the Lower East Side and my days in the army. It was time to set up the barbeque for dinner and I generously poured my lighter fluid on the charcoal briquettes. I used a lit cigarette to kindle the glistening black coals. Just then the wind kicked up and the flame was blown in my direction.  Reflexively, I kicked the grill away, and the contents fell onto the ground setting the grassy area aflame and igniting a tree. The forest park rangers ran to my assistance and ably extinguished the flame. While the flames were dying down I reflected back to my high school years and realized that I was definitely not cut out to become a forest ranger.

The Procrastinator

by Max Staschover

Here begins the prologue of the Procrastinator’s tale: Most people see procrastinating, as a terrible thing that stops you from succeeding in life; that is not true, procrastination is simply a lifestyle, a choice. I have been procrastinating all my life whether it be sleeping instead of reading, or playing rather than writing. Often, I’ll stop work to stare at a wall, because a lot of times that becomes more interesting.  I believe that when a teacher gives a due date for a homework assignment, the students and the teacher both know that the kids aren’t going to use the time to gradually finish it, they just need a while to push it off. In fact, I have an essay due and 2 tests tomorrow, and I’m spending my time here, telling a story. The story will tell is about a boy named John who is trying to write an essay within the time constraints of a short Friday day. Here end the prologue of the Procrastinator’s tale

Here begin the Procrastinator’s tale:  The story begins Thursday night, around 2 AM. A boy named John has just finished playing on his laptop when he realizes that he has an essay due the next day. The assignment was that he had to right a story about someone telling a tale. John had been well aware that at some point this assignment had needed to be done for quite some time. John pulled up Microsoft word on his laptop, and began to write the heading, after he finished, he decided that the heading had been enough progress for him to reward himself with a break.

He goes to take a shower, comes back, plays on his laptop for a couple minutes, and then decides to return back to his work. He looks and sees that he hadn’t yet decided what he was going to write about. John comes up with something, but later discards the idea, thinking it will be too hard to write about.  He thinks about idea he might want to write about for the next thirty minutes without success.  John’s eyes began to feel heavy; he thought nothing of it. About ten seconds later, he blinked, and it became morning. John got up, and noticed that he woke up face down on his laptop. Also he noticed that no work had been done, and that he had to somehow get it done. It was a Friday, meaning that it was a shorter day of school. John began to think of each class he had that day, he realized that he had five periods out of the day that allowed him to use his laptop. So John got up, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and boarded the bus to school. When he arrived he started to head toward his first period class: Chemistry. Chemistry was a double period on Fridays, so it counted as two out of the five periods he had to work. The first thing his teacher said was “today you will be doing a lab, so everyone find a partner and go to a lab station”. Two potential periods to work on his essay, were now gone. Now John only had three left. After Chemistry, John made his way toward his third period class: English. When john pulled out his laptop, he realized that he still had no idea on what to write about. He decided to settle for the idea he rejected the night before. The idea was, to write a story about a procrastinator. The assignment was that the person’s tale needed a prologue; he finished that over the course of the period. Then, after English class was lunch.  John had no money for lunch, because his sister asked to borrow the only five dollars he had in his wallet. So he knew that he would not have any distractions stopping him from finishing his essay. The problem John had, was that he still did not know which story he was going to write about, he had figured out the choice for who would be telling the story, but not what the story was itself. He asked a friend for a suggestion, to which he replied, “Maybe you should use the story from the movie Ferris bueler’s day off”. John agreed and went to the lunchroom to begin writing the story. He sat next to another friend of his, to which he told about the story he was writing. The friend said, “Know what would be a good idea for a story? If you wrote about how you were doing the essay now”. John really liked the idea, so he began writing about that instead. Throughout lunch, John had written a good portion of the story, but he was not very close to being finished. After lunch, he needed to go to Gemara class. John thought that maybe because his class consisted of only four people, that his teacher would let him work on the assignment. She agreed, and suggested that we just have a free period. By the end of that period, John had gotten closer to finishing the essay. During the next couple periods, John was not allowed to use his laptop in class, so he did not get any more work done until his last period class: history, where he got even more work done. To his surprise John still had not finished the essay, but the teacher said that it was to be submitted online, so he still had some more time. When John got on the bus to go home he finished the essay. All he had to do was make some small changes, and type the last couple of words. John had succeeded in writing his essay; the fact that he procrastinated did not stop him at all. The only effect of his procrastination was that he did it one day later, and actually made that day kind of interesting, which isn’t bad at all.  Here ends the Procrastinator’s tale.

Canterbury Remix

by Talia Ostrow

General Prologue:

            Her name was Lily Goldman. She wore a long black skirt, a pink frilly blouse, and a shiny white shell underneath which covered her from her elbows to her collarbone. She sported black tights and black flats that didn’t look very confortable. She had a bounce in her step, making her dark curly hair swish side to side as she walked. Anytime someone sneezed she would quickly tell him or her “Labriut” and whenever something terrible was mentioned she would gasp and mutter “Chas V’shalom.” She had a very bubbly personality; her laugh could be heard from miles away. The girl eagerly made sure that everyone knew her different religious and political views. Lily was the kind of girl who knew that if she put her mind to it, she could befriend anyone and everyone would like her. At least that’s what she thought.

Character prologue:

            “Hello everyone! I hope you are all doing well today! My tale is one that I learned in Yeshiva many years ago. You see, I went to a Yeshiva from Kindergarten to 8^th Grade, but then my parents ran into some financial trouble and couldn’t keep paying the tuition. So, I was forced to switch into a public school. I realized that G-d had given me a task: to educate my fellow pupils. Before me, some of my new friends had never even seen a Jew before. One boy even asked if I could show him my horns. I was appalled! How could these people be so ignorant? So, in order to show the students at my school what Jews really are, I decided to become more religious. I needed to make sure that I acted appropriately so as to change their ideas about what Jews are like. I started wearing skirts all the time so as to be more modest. I felt like I needed to show the world what Jews are really like, even if I had to change myself to do so. Alright, but enough about me, lets get to the story.”

Character Tale:

            “A long time ago, nothing existed. No one really knows what it was like before the world was created, because the Torah begins with creation. Through a seven day process, the world as we know it was formed. On the first day light and darkness were created, the second day was when the sky and water were separated and shaped, and the third day brought plants such as grass, trees, and flowers. On the fourth day the sun, moon, and stars were created and the fifth day came with birds, fish, and insects. Finally, on the sixth day, man was created. Well one man actually, and he was called Adam. Then, G-d gave him a companion who was called Chava- ah I mean Eve. That’s what she’s called in the bible right? I don’t want to confuse anyone. They were created in a garden famously known as the Garden of Eden. The two people were allowed to live their lives to the fullest without a care in the world. They didn’t wear any clothes and were allowed to eat from whichever trees they wanted except for one; that was the only restraint that G-d gave them. One might think that it would easy enough to leave one little tree alone and just enjoy what they had; one might think that.”

            “Adam and Eve didn’t live alone in the garden of paradise; all the other animals from creation resided there as well. There were dogs, birds, and snakes. Not just any snakes though, they were a little different. The snakes in the garden had…LEGS! They could walk around and everything! The weirdest part was that they could even talk! And, there was one particular snake that becomes very important in Adam and Eve’s life; I can’t remember his name though (if he even had one). He was the meanest snake around and was probably the one who gave the whole species a bad reputation. You see, this particular snake was very jealous of Adam. Adam’s wife Eve was always running around in the nude, making a big spectacle of herself, and the snake was very jealous that she was married to Adam. So jealous, that he wanted to ruin Adam’s life and knew just the way to do it,”

            “’Eve!’ the snake whispered from his hiding spot behind a bush. Eve was in a meadow, minding her business and picking some flowers. At the sound of her name she perked up ‘Is someone there?’ she asked, looking around. ‘Over here!’ the snake whispered louder, peeking out from behind the bush. Eve looked around a little more until her eyes landed on the snake. She pranced over to him and kneeled so that her head was parallel to his. ‘Hi there!’ she exclaimed, obviously not afraid of the snake in any way. ‘I found the most amazing fruit ever!’ he said excitedly, grabbing her hand and pulling her forwards. She just shrugged and let herself be dragged. They finally arrived at the snake’s destination: the forbidden tree with forbidden fruit. Eve pulled her hands out of his and frowned. ‘We aren’t supposed to be here,’ she said, slowly backing away. Her husband had told her that G-d said to not even touch the tree, although that was a little of an exaggeration. ‘Come on’ the snake started, ‘don’t be afraid of a tree. Just come touch it.’ Eve seemed unsure but her curiosity got the better of her. She inched slowly towards the tree and gingerly placed her fingers on the trunk. She quickly looked up, as if expecting to get struck by lightning on the spot. When nothing happened she laughed with glee. ‘See? Nothing even happened! Adam is just a party-pooper. Come on, the fruit are really as good and savory,’ the snake reached up and picked one of the fruit and held it out to her. She looked unsure but took it from him and took a bite. Everything went downhill from there.”

            “Eve realized that it was the best fruit she had ever tasted, and quickly took off to find her husband, an extra one in her hands. The snake was very confused; he thought that if he introduced this to her, she might leave her husband for him.  But, while he watched her run away, he realized that he had been extremely stupid to think that. He was just a snake, and that was all he would ever be to her. This made him even happier that he just made Eve commit the biggest sin of all and probably just ruined her life. He figured, if he couldn’t have her and be happy, no one could. Anyway, Eve ran to Adam and held out the fruit, explaining that is was really harmless. She finally convinced him to take a bite. This made G-d extremely angry. He scolded the couple and exiled them from paradise, making their lives much harder and filling it with sorrow. Adam had to start farming for food, and Eve had to birth children painfully. They both became very self-conscious and started wearing clothes. Even the snake was punished, and was forced to live without legs and to forever slither on the Earth amongst the dirt and dust. Humankind would be changed forever, never again living with ease, all because Eve flaunted herself and caused jealousy.”

             “This story was always one of my favorites because it taught me how important it is to dress modestly. It really shows how your appearance can affect the way people view you. Why would you want to give people the wrong idea, right? Therefore, I strongly believe that modesty is ultimately the best policy.”