Monday, May 13, 2013

Minute: Shavuot

by Rachelle David



The giving of gifts is kooky
At first, cranky
Never the desire
Often a bummer

Receiver of the gifts is challenged
At first, thrill
Never understands, though
That the stiff scrolls bear responsibility

The Repercussions can be catastrophic
At first, diligence
Never a return policy
The weight crashing down upon us

Years and years later, intelligence
At first, interest
Never complete deciphering
Constant doubt and review to try and appreciate the gift that was given.


The Fisherman of Alabama

by Rachel Dynkin



Alone out on the river
Just me and this here hook
The water shines like silver
A quiet peaceful brook.

Then suddenly my hand shakes
This fish must weigh a ton
The old rod nearly breaks
As the spinning reel is spun.

I crouch down on the grass
Hands clasped around my kill
A scaly silver bass
Its gasping through its gill

I walk into the sunset
Basking in my glory
My clothing freshly wet
I put away my quarry

And as I drive away
I take just one more look
I cannot wait a day
To go back to that brook

The Butterfly Effect (Part V)

by Rebecca Rosen



“Children, it is time to load the buses, say your final goodbyes. Your future starts right now!” He shouts with too much excitement in his voice. I give Aldabert a final hug before we begin to be separated by the mobs of children eager to arrive at their new schools. 
“Forever,” I scream across the mob of people who are more beautiful than I am.
“Times forever,” Aldabert shouts from the other side of the globe. 
Walking to the buses is like walking to my hanging. Everything seems grey outside, despite the lush colors surrounding me. Infinite blondes walk around me, in beautiful dresses made just for them. How could this have happened? I do not belong here. Every few seconds I see perfect blue, green, golden eyes look back at me, like they are searching, yet burning me at the same time. I stand at the back of the crowd hoping to fade into the scenery surrounding us. Us, the clan of beautiful. The only thing that keeps me from breaking at this point is Bessie, trudging slowly at my side. I know that she feels the same way I do. 
The doorway to the bus is a few dozen feet before me. I know what comes next but I am not ready to face it. My life from this point on will change forever. Not necessarily for better or worse, but just in general.
“Maybe this school could hold something great in store,” I whisper to Bessie who is still silently stalking by my side.
Her tail is down, something very uncharacteristic of her.
“What’s the matter girl?” I ask when I am blocked from stepping any further toward the bus. “Ouch,” I say while I rub my shoulder which I’m pretty sure just popped out of its socket.
I look up and am greeted by a huge man dressed to impress.  He wears a black tuxedo and a white shirt underneath it, slightly unbuttoned.
“Excuse me miss, but it needs to go,” he says, becoming more intimidating by the moment.
“What needs to go, exactly?” I ask him, a hint of nastiness left in my voice. I hope he doesn’t notice.
“That mutt following you. Is it even yours anyway?” He wears an expression full of disgust.
All I want to do is kick him straight in the…
”She is not a mutt. And yes, she is mine. And no, she is not going anywhere.”
I start to walk forward with a confident pace when I hear a yelp.  I look back to see the man pick Bessie, seemingly asleep, up in his arms. 
“Hey! Who do you think you are?” I yell at him.
“I’m sorry but it can’t accompany you to where your new life begins.  Give me an address where I should drop it off.”
I start to think. My guards probably moved out as soon as the ceremony ended, so that’s no good.
“15694 Boxfleur.” I tell him just like that. Aldabert’s parents should be in for quite a surprise. “Can I just say goodbye to her? Alone?” I ask giving him the deadliest stare I could muster up. 
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Make it quick; I have a life, too, you know.”
He kicks the ground and walks a mere ten feet away. I wish he would walk into the forest and fall off of a cliff. 
“Hey girl,” I say as I lean down and pet Bessie’s head. “Okay this is the plan. I’m sending you to Aldabert’s house, I’m sure his mom will be fine with you staying there. I’ll sneak out and come visit you and we’ll play fetch and go in the lake…” I feel the hot tears falling down my face onto her perfect fur. Why her too? “I know you’re sad, but don’t worry. It’ll all go by super fast and we’ll be together faster than you know. Wait lemme just…” I take out my camera and snap a picture of her tired face. She looks like she has been drugged. “I love you forever times forever, Bess.”
The man comes and scoops Bessie off of the ground and walks away without another word. All I’m left with is a picture of her. A picture of the girl I grew up with and the only living memory of my life before all of this happened. 
Suddenly, I hear my name being called. I keep looking around the path for who it might be, but just give up. What’s the point anyway? I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder and realize that it is her.  Aldabert’s mother.  “I’m so sorry, Beata.  I’m so sorry,” she begins.  I feel her arms around me, not in the usual loving way, but in a more frantic and worried way. Sort of like she was shielding me from what would soon come. Sort of like she knew that this would happen all along. All of those years of play dates and smiles and hugs were set in place all for failure. I look into her eyes which are red and full of tears.  “You knew all along, didn’t you?” I asked her.
She couldn’t even come up with the words to express how sorry she was. I couldn’t even manage to be upset with her. She was the closest thing I have had to a mother in all of my years of living.
“I need you to do something for me,” I pleaded. Her eyes looked like oceans of worry.  She could not even speak.  “They took Bessie away from me. I asked them to bring her to your house. The guards already moved on to another child so I can’t send her to my house and I’m not sure where else I would send her.”
I break down and she grabs me so tightly, I might explode. 
“Anything for you, dear. Absolutely anything.”
I needed her and I just realized that she wasn’t prepared to lose me, either. I take out my camera and she smiles. She has never looked so vulnerable, so weak, in all of the years I have spent with her. The flash comes and she is gone without another word. Probably going to the bathroom to touch her face up. Everything has been stripped away from me, slowly but surely and I can surely feel it in the pit of my stomach. This hole that grows bigger and bigger, black and empty, waiting to suck the life out of me. Or has it already?

We continue our treacherous journey for about another three minutes.  Those three minutes feel like a lifetime to me, walking alone without a hand to hold or a smile to receive. Honestly, just kill me now, I think as the bus starts to swim into view. This bus is nothing like I have ever seen. It is triple the size of my house, definitely a double decker, maybe even a triple decker. It is completely pink, of course. Nothing less would suffice for the most beautiful girls of Pareo. Girls start to push and shove to find their way onto the bus. All I can see right now is a mass mob of blonde. The gap between the girls and me feels as though it is continuously getting larger. With every step forward they take, it feels like I am taking two steps back. It is finally my turn to step onto the bus. I look behind me and see that the forest is so near.  I think about running. Just running away into the heavily wooded area.  Maybe Aldabert would be waiting for me there. If I make a run for it right now, there would be nothing the supervisors could do about me.  Who cares if the ugliest girl here disappears? More fun for them!

I enter the bus alone. I see that there is a flight of stairs going up that are white with multicolor LED lights inside. I look down and see that the floor of the bus is completely transparent. I am sure that if I were here with Aldabert, we would find a trace of ironic humor in this. But Aldabert isn’t here and I am alone. I look up to see that hundreds of rows of green, blue and golden eyes are staring at me once again.  “Seems as though all of the seats are taken on this floor sweetie!” A voice says to me. Her voice is as smooth as silk, so beautiful. Like it is something I have been missing my entire life.
“Just follow me upstairs and we will find you a place. These girls can be a little scary.”
The voice matched the creature. She is tall and skinny, but it suits her well. Her skin is absolutely perfect, not a flaw in sight, with perfectly rosy cheeks. Her hair is like fire: red, orange, gold, all at the exact same time. She is wearing a tight red sequined dress, like most of the other escorts on the bus. Her lips are painted a bright red to match her dress, but her eyes are not made up at all. They do not need it. Her eyes are a greenish yellow and very mysterious, as if she is hiding something under all of her flawless flesh.
            “Um, excuse me? Name please?”  Her harmonic voice rings in my ears. 
“Beata, Beata Cavelry,” I barely squeak out from my less-than-average mouth. How can someone mortal be this beautiful?
“Alright, Beata. Pleasure to be in service of you today. Follow me upstairs and I will find your shadow.”
“Excuse me, but what is a shadow?” I ask. I hope that this is not a stupid question.
“Haha, you are very unfamiliar with the Formosa system, aren’t you?” She asks me while smiling.  Her teeth are whiter than Aldabert’s. I wonder how that is even possible.
“Yes. I had no idea that I of all people could ever end up in this school,” I answer.
“Well, the government of Pareo knows best so I am sure that they put you here for a good reason!” She giggles apprehensively. There is silence for a solid five seconds.
“Well… to answer your question, a shadow is a fellow newcomer to the school that is randomly paired to another student. It is a way to make friends before coming to the school. Sort of like a meet-and-greet for the kids,” she says to me while looking down at the transparent glass tablet in her hand. 
            “A wonderful idea, I am sure!” I snap back with a little more sarcasm than necessary. 
“Aright, then, let us begin!”

She walks up the stairs one step ahead of me. We arrive at the top of the steps and both look around in the same direction.
“Just out of curiosity, where are all of the boys?”
“Ah, you haven’t heard,” she says and shakes her head from right to left just once. 
“Boys and girls at Formosa are kept separately until the presentation ceremony. It goes the same way for Eriditus and Vulgaris. The presentation is usually when mates meet each other for the first time.  Like a fresh set for eyes, they won’t see you before your transformation.”
“Fine with me,” I say. All I can think about is Aldabert seeing me at this presentation, whatever it is.
It has transparent floors just like the bottom bus, but that is the only thing that the two have in common. I look down the aisle to see that the girls up here are even more beautiful than the girls downstairs.  These girls are not blonde, they are gold. Each girl is different, but equally as beautiful as the other. My escort turns to me and smiles the most painted-on smile I have ever seen. She flips through a virtual list on her glass tablet before stopping suddenly. 

“Lucifas Amare… Lucifas Amare may I see you for a moment?” Amare.  Where have I heard that name before?
A girl with hair made of gold, a suntanned complexion just like Aldabert’s and eyes like liquid mercury walks over. She gives my escort a look like I have never seen given to an adult before. It is one of pure annoyance, like she would rather be anywhere else. 
“Yes?” She asks through a sarcastic grimace. Oh no, please, any one but her.
“Meet Beata Cavelry. She is your mentor.”
“She is my shadow?!” Lucifas screeches.
“Please comply with my requests this time. Beata is a very…special case,” the woman says while looking down at her tablet. 
“Fine,” she spits and then pops her bubblegum. Cinnamon flavor, absolutely nauseating. 
“I assure you two, the next four years of your lives will be absolutely fantastic!” The woman says through that painted smile once more. 


To Be Continued…

The Foreign Murders (Part III)

by Rachelle David



Dr. Brapvy and Mr. Cameroon spent at least five hours in the large and messy room.  The room was a large square with shelves upon shelves of files in it. The shelves were set up in rows and columns. There was no organizational system for the files. The men just had to search through every file and find the one that they were looking for, yet, the room was so disorganized that even this one file was impossible to find. It was a lot like trying to find a black cat in the dead of night, unreasonably difficult and futile.
After the first few hours, Mr. Cameroon grew bored and hopelessness found its place in the man. He expressed his boredom many times to Dr. Brapvy. This only made the doctor dislike him and think that it was time for him to leave the business even more. The Doctor thought that Mr. Cameroon acted like a child and an immature one at that. It took them too many hours to look through every file in the room. When they had looked through the last file, they found nothing about the house. The house seemed to not exist.  Mr. Cameroon was hopeless.
He said, “Dr. Brapvy, what are we going to do?  We cannnot crack this case.”
Dr. Brapvy looked at him with wonder. 
He said, “This is still the beginning of the case. We received this assignment yesterday. If you think that we will solve the mystery in one day, you are going to be out of a job sooner than you can say the word ‘guilty.’ You need to buy some patience really soon, kid.”
“I am sorry, Doctor.  I am just frustrated and upset. We can go and search in the room with the special files. Maybe the government put the file in there?” 
Mr. Cameroon was a little ashamed about his outburst. He knew better than to give up on Dr. Brapvy.
Dr. Brapvy was not yet finished with his yelling. He screamed, “I want you to give me a call when you get your first case that takes ten years to find the criminal.  Promise me that you will do that.”
“I promise.”
“You promise….”
“I promise that I will call you when I get my first case that takes me ten years to find the criminal.”
Dr. Brapvy calmed down a little.
“Very good. Now, let us go and find that receptionist.”
Dr. Brapvy, followed by Mr. Cameroon, confidently left the room and confronted the boy.

Aracelli was so happy that she went on the trip with Colin. They spent some quality time together discussing the mutiny and various other things.  She was still in love with him and thought that he liked her a lot to. If he did not, then why would he approach her? She was still engrossed in the unimportant love life that she had. It was against the house rules to display the love publically. The Heads would have made a law against loving anyone, but they knew that they could not control people’s emotions. Aracelli did not care about the laws of the house. She was an independent woman and deserved freedom. She was very happy that Colin exposed his plans for rebellion to her. She realized that she agreed with him. It was time for action.


Aidan was dozing off in his chair. He loved working in the City Hall. His job was simple: check people’s identifications, make sure that they are going to the right place and sleep the rest of the time. The only problem was the guard. He was rather large and frightening to the young boy. At first, Kyle the guard watched the new receptionist closely. This frightened Aidan even more. After a few weeks, Aidan figured out that if he positioned his chair at the right angle, Kyle would not be able to see him and Aidan could sleep. This went on for some time and since not many people entered the building, it was a very relaxing job. If given the option, anyone would trade for his job, no matter how much they liked theirs.
            Dr. Brapvy walked very carefully on the purple tile floor so that he would not stomp and alert Aidan.  He walked right up to the front desk and he snapped a quick picture of the sleeping receptionist. Mr. Cameroon was waiting on the side, watching. He was excited to see the young receptionist get what he deserved. It was a lot better and more entertaining to see someone else get punished and yelled at. He knew that Dr. Brapvy had a lot of yelling capabilities inside of him. He was watching and waiting for the bright side of working with the Doctor.
Dr. Brapvy stood looking at the receptionist for one full minute. He was deciding how to handle him. He had to keep in mind that he was not his worker. He had no rights over the young man, but he was a guest to the Hall and that gave him some authority. He made up his mind. Dr. Brapvy took a deep breath. He tapped the young boy lightly on the shoulder. 
Aidan’s eyelids fluttered open. He was upset because he was in the middle of a terrific dream. He was running in a cornfield during a bright red sunrise with his best friend, Josie Armstrong. The field was filled with ripe, golden yellow corn. Josie was wearing a bright orange pair of overall shorts with a sunshine yellow T-shirt underneath.  Aidan was wearing the same outfit but in a dark purple overall and a pale green T-shirt.  Josie reached out and grabbed a corn stalk. She ripped it out of the ground and her toned muscles flexed with tiny beads of sweat formed on her perfectly sun-tanned arms. Aidan could not catch his breath. He was so impressed by the gorgeous Josie that he did not care about Josie ripping the t-shirt which was hand-sewn by Aidan. Josie then offered the corn to Aidan. Aidan blushed until his face blended into the sunrise in the background. He accepted the corn stalk gracefully. Josie leaned in so that her face was mere centimeters away from Aidan’s, just as Dr. Brapvy tapped on Aidan’s shoulder. This was not the first dream that he had had featuring a country scene, but it was the first starring his best friend.
He started dreaming about farms right after Melanie dumped him in front of the whole fútbol team. He really liked Melanie. She made him feel like himself all the time and them she left and he faded. He always thought that he felt too comfortable around her. He needed more time to consider all of his emotions. He made a mental note in which he wrote the words ‘Explore heart’s desire at an appropriate time.’
He returned to real life and opened his eyes fully. The man in front of him looked vaguely familiar. Aidan knew that the man’s name was said to him sometime that day.  He remembered it!  He said in a clear, powerful voice, “Hello, Dr. Brapvy. I hope that the services here at the City Hall were to your satisfaction.”
“No, actually we – er… I mean I - could not find what I was looking for. I will need to enter the ‘Special room,’ as you called it,” Dr. Brapvy said gently. He did not want to sound too forceful. 
“Oh, I am so sorry to inconvenience you, sir. If I had known that what you are looking for was not in the first room, then I would not have told you to go in there. Here are the keys to the secret room. The big key is for the top lock and the smaller one is for the bottom lock. I am so sorry. If there is anything that I can do to make it up for you, I would love to, or maybe just enjoy, uh, doing it,” Aidan finished with a smile.
Dr. Brapvy took the keys and thanked Aidan. He walked over to Mr. Cameroon, who was obviously disappointed, and they walked together to the secret room. Dr. Brapvy whispered to Mr. Cameroon, “That boy is very strange.”
Mr. Cameroon responded, “Yes, it seemed as though he is running a high class hotel here, not a Hall. May I ask why you did not yell at him?”
“You may ask all of the questions that you like, Mr. Cameroon.  You should really be asking if you will receive answers for them.”
“That boy, Aidan, he is so friendly all of a sudden.  It is quite odd.”
“Maybe he had a very good dream and thought that he was still in it?”
“Yes, maybe.”
The two men strode to the large door that led to the secret room.  Dr. Brapvy pulled out the keys. He put the larger key in the top lock and the smaller key in the bottom lock.  He turned the keys. Both keys worked, but the door still would not open.  Mr. Cameroon tried to open the door. He, too, could not open the large door. Dr. Brapvy walked loudly back to Aidan. 
He said sternly, “Aidan, I cannot waste my time on practical jokes. Now, open the door for me.”  When Aidan did not move, the Doctor yelled, “Immediately!”
Aidan jumped out of his chair and began to walk quickly to the front exit door.  He heard something odd and suddenly stopped in his tracks. Mr. Cameroon was laughing obnoxiously out loud. Aidan did not understand. What was so funny? He turned around and said as calmly as he could manage, “Sir, what is so funny that you cannot contain your laughter?”
This made Mr. Cameroon laugh even more. He attempted to stop laughing, but he could not. In between laughs, he said, “You – are – going – to – the – wrong – door. Dr. – Brapvy – was – yelling – at- you – instead – of – me.  It – is – hilarious.”  Then, he continued to laugh.
The boy did not know what to make of this laughter. He decided to only use the information that was important to him.
“Wait, this is not the door that you were talking about? Then which is the door that would not open?”
Dr. Brapvy said in a commanding way, “The door that leads to the secret room.”  He had had enough of this time-wasting.
“The door that leads to the secret room? Oh, that door. All you need to do is say the phrase ‘please open’ and it will. Now please, let me get back to my work.” At that, he walked back to his desk and pretended to do work.
Dr. Brapvy looked at Mr. Cameroon. They shared a look of mutual confusion.  Mr. Cameroon was the first to look away. He walked back to the large door.  He knocked on it and said, “Please open.”
The large door opened. Mr. Cameroon looked back at Dr. Brapvy and nodded at him to follow. Dr. Brapvy’s jaw dropped. He shook his head and followed Mr. Cameroon into the room. Mr. Cameroon entered the room and began to explore. The room was so dark that he could not see his hands in front of him. A man stepped out of the darkness within the room and grabbed Mr. Cameroon.
The man said, “Who are you and why are you entering my sanctuary?”  He had a very deep voice that was both gruff and soothing at the same time. Mr. Cameroon felt a furry beard scratching his neck. 
Dr. Brapvy heard the new voice and ran inside the room yelling a medieval war cry and saying, “Who are you?” Then, when he could not see anything, he said, “Where are you? Mr. Cameroon? Are you alright?” When he received no answer from either man, he yelled, “Answer me immediately!”
The man who was in the room said softly, so that only Mr. Cameroon could hear, “Who is that man?  Is he your rescuer?  Is he here to kill me?  I sought out my solitude so that I could leave that world of hatred and now you are bringing it forcefully back into my life. Why are you doing this to me?”
Mr. Cameroon replied to the man in the same soft voice, “He is not here to kill you or anyone. We are investigators and we are researching a certain address to find out more information about a case. The receptionist of this building told us that the file that we are looking for is in this room. He gave us the keys, but the door still would not open.  We went back to the receptionist and he told us to just say ‘please open’ and so we did.  That is it. Now, can you please let me go?”
The man gave the matter some thought. He then tightened his grip on Mr. Cameroon and said, “This man seems to be a little less forgiving than he should be.”
Mr. Cameroon gagged, “He is just cautious. If you give him the chance, then maybe you will see that he will not hurt without reason.”
“I guess I cannot blame him.  It is part of his job to find criminals and not trust anyone. Let us just talk to him from this position and let the chips fall where they may.  We will see how harmless he is and I will keep you like this for I will soon discover how honest you are.” He snarled this and sounded very vicious, almost as if he would rip open the man’s throat with his teeth.
“Fine. But promise not to kill me,” Mr. Cameroon whispered back urgently.
“Kill you? I would never. Now, severe injury is a better idea.”
“Nothing of that sort shall happen, alright?”
The man nodded silently in agreement.
Mr. Cameroon said as loudly as he could so that Dr. Brapvy could hear him through the room, “Dr. Brapvy, I am alright. This man claims that this room belongs to him. There seems to be a slight misunderstanding.” Mr. Cameroon said this as calmly and carefully as he could so that he would not upset the attacker. 
Dr. Brapvy breathed a deep breath and said, once he had relaxed, “Great. All we need to do is sort this thing out, and,” he stopped midsentence and screamed like a frustrated child, “Can someone turn on a light in here!” He even stamped his foot.
The bearded man bellowed loudly, “Well, I have not seen any light in a very long time. If I remember correctly, there should be a light switch on the wall to the left of the door. Mister, if it will aid in your focusing, I am sure you can find it. Then we could discuss our situation.”
Dr. Brapvy walked with his arms out in front of him, trying to find the wall. He did find it and he found the light switch soon after. He flicked it up. The stranger yelled, “Augh” and covered his eyes with his hands, releasing Mr. Cameroon and crouching so that his feet covered his face. Mr. Cameroon ran to and hid beside Dr. Brapvy. They, in unison, looked at the stranger for the first time and then looked around the room. The room was huge. It was nothing like the other file room. This one was white and homey.  It was carpeted with an intricate and ancient looking rug which filled the whole room. It was yellow, red and pale purple. There were also paintings along the wall. The paintings looked like the artist had made them just for that room. They fit perfectly in the theme of the room and were the right size to fill the walls. Four pillars of stone traveled from floor to ceiling forming a perfect square. Directly in the center of the room, a single wire led from the ceiling down exactly one meter and ended with a plate of light. Curious, Mr. Cameroon walked up to the plate of light and touched it with a single finger. He quickly pulled back just as he touched it and put that one finger in his mouth.
“Ouch!” he said, for the plate was just a light bulb and Mr. Cameroon had burned his finger slightly. Both Dr. Brapvy and Mr. Cameroon looked back at the stranger for a second time. The stranger had a scruffy red beard that could only come from years of living without grooming. He was wearing a slightly ripped mellow orange suit with a dull yellow shirt and a tie that matched the rug on the floor. He had a friendly face but naïve grey eyes. His nose was very wide and his skin was a dark brown that combined well with the color of his hair. The hair on his head was thick and curly and stood up in all directions but still had a controlled look to it. He looked as though he was around forty-four years old.
Dr. Brapvy and Mr. Cameroon looked at each other. They did not know what to do. Mr. Cameroon walked up to the strange man and sat down next to him. 
Mr. Cameroon said softly, “What is your name, sir?  I am called Mr. Cameroon and this is my – er – colleague, Dr. Brapvy.” Dr. Brapvy waved his hand and muttered a greeting. He kept his distance from their attacker.
The stranger looked up at Mr. Cameroon.
He said, “I think Bernard is my name, but I am not sure. It has been a very long time since someone spoke to me. I am pleased to meet you both.”
Dr. Brapvy paced across the room. He was deep in thought. Suddenly, he said, “Wait, you don’t happen to be the Bernard Woods, do you?”
Mr. Cameroon said, “Doctor, who is Bernard Woods?  I have never heard that name before.” Mr. Cameroon thought that the Doctor was loosing his marbles and these odd characters that he kept on speaking about only confirmed his fears.
“Mr. Cameroon, you are so young. Let me enlighten you as I always do. When I was younger, I was told about the legend of Bernard Woods. I always thought that it was just some story, but it might be true. This man might be Bernard Woods.” Dr. Brapvy was getting excited. Every person wants his Childhood dreams to come true and Dr. Brapvy felt that he was about to meet Bernard Woods.
The man who was called Bernard said, “If you pardon me for interrupting, I believe that I remember enough to tell you my story.”

To Be Continued…

Four Years Later

By Anna Hardcastle
Creative Essay



          I don’t know why I decided to come back to New York that year. I suppose that four years away from the Big Apple had made me forget all of the useless drama and unnecessary infidelity that the city brought with it. But I returned nonetheless. By some serendipitous mistake of fate I was able to rent the same small house in West Egg as I had that disastrous summer four years ago and settled in quite nicely.
            I hadn’t any intention of revisiting my beautiful cousin in East Egg as the last time had proven to be quite enough. However, I found myself on her doorstep, despite myself, just three days after I arrived in New York. The same butler opened the door and the same grand chandelier hung from the entrance hall, a magnificent sign to passersby of the aesthetic pleasures that old money could buy.  
            It was remarkably hot on that day, just as it had been the first time I had shown up at the Buchanans’ doorstep four years before. Daisy lay on the same couch, fanning herself with her same dainty hands.
            “Nick,” she cried, with the same enticing voice. “It is so lovely to see you.”
            This time, there was no Jordan Baker on the couch opposite Daisy. Instead, Pammy Buchanan sat with her legs crossed.
            “Pammy, this is Nick,” Daisy said to her daughter. “You probably don’t remember him.”
            As the girl crossed the room and gave me her hand, I noticed that Daisy’s wish of her daughter growing up into a beautiful fool had been granted.
            “Hello, Nick!” I heard from behind me as I dropped Pam’s hand and turned around.
            It was Tom, looking as proud and vain as ever.
            We chattered in the drawing room for several minutes as iced mint juleps, still apparently a favourite, were brought in. As Tom spoke about how New York is going to the dogs and the immigrants, I nodded and “mhm-ed” occasionally, although I could not keep my eyes off of Daisy. She sat solemnly, her gorgeous orbs looking straight ahead as she feigned a smile of content. She had Gatsby in her eyes. I noticed this and suddenly, I realized that Daisy must have had him in her eyes every day. Daisy looked not at her graceful and striking daughter, not at her handsome and aloof husband, not at the room’s polished gold trophies. She looked into the yonder into the face of Gatsby. At his mouth which ached for her lips and his eyes which never stopped seeing anything but her.
            As I was ushered onto the patio for lunch, I still stared fixedly at Daisy, wondering what went on in her mind and in her heart. The conversation was bland and uncomfortable. This time, Tom was not beckoned away by some mistress. He remained present at the table for the duration of the meal, but I could not say the same about Daisy. She had been seated, but she wasn’t there. I couldn’t help but wonder if every day since Gatsby’s death had passed this same solemn way.
            There wasn’t a moment that Daisy and I were left alone until the governess came in to take Pam up to her room and Tom decided to fetch a new bottle of rum. I quickly turned to Daisy who looked at me and smiled.
            “This reminds me of the last summer we spent together,” she said. “The same weather, same drinks, same lunch.”
            She laughed lightly and put her hand over mine.
            “How are you, Daisy?” I asked, hoping that she would hear the urgency in my voice.
            “Oh, I’m fine,” she replied.
Her voice was no longer money-filled. She no longer had an air of superiority or useless foolishness. She had the air of someone who could not come to terms with herself. She looked up at me and smiled once again.
“But you know I’m lying, don’t you, Nick?”
I was surprised.
“You seem to understand things beyond their surface; no one else here can do that. But you know that I’m pining for him. I tried to leave Tom, you know. I told him ‘Tom, I will no longer sit here and be a trophy wife to you.’ But, of course, he told me that I loved him and how could I argue?”
There was a pause in which Daisy looked up to the sky.
“I killed her, you know. It was I who ran over Tom’s peasant girl. But Jay took the blame and because of me, he is dead now.”
“Does Tom know?” I asked.
“No,” Daisy replied shortly. “He refuses to believe it when I tell him. He just wants to think the worst of Jay.”
During the silence that ensued, I wondered where Tom had run off to for so long.
“I walk over there sometimes,” Daisy began. “I take a cab across the water and then walk to his mansion. It still looks the same, you know. But without the music and the parties. Without the promise of escape from this awful house.”
“What are you two talking about?” Tom asked as he walked back outside. “Let’s go to the city, why don’t we? It’s such a nice day.”
“I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit tired,” I lied, remembering all too well the last excursion we had taken to New York. “I should probably leave.”
As I got up to go, Tom retrieved my hat and Daisy looked at me sorrowfully.
“I never did thank you for what you did for me and Jay,” Daisy said. “That was the happiest day of my life, when you invited the two of us over for tea. I will never forget it.”
With that, Daisy kissed me on my cheek and walked into the drawing room, resuming her lazy post on her sofa.
“Don’t be a stranger, now, Nick,” Tom warned me. “I expect to see you many more times during the summer.”
“Of course,” I replied, although I had already made up my mind to leave New York that same night. “Thank you.”
As I walked down the Buchanans’ long drive, I remembered Gatsby standing in the bushes, watching over Daisy. I knew that he was still there and that Daisy had a perfect view of him from her perch on the sofa. 

May Letter From the Editor



Letter From the Editor


Dear Readers,
 I am thrilled to announce this year’s revival of the “Written Voice” literary blog. With your cooperation and talent, there will hopefully be a new issue every two months. I was worried about getting this first issue out because ‘tis the season of College Applications, but regardless, the writers of North Shore Hebrew Academy managed to compile a really nice issue. If you are a reader: I hope you enjoy this collection of lovely, artistic literary pieces. If you are a writer who didn’t send me an entry for this issue: fear not! I would love for you to send me something for the next one. If you are a writer who did in fact contribute a piece: thank you so very much and keep on contributing. I believe that writers are a cultural vitality in this school, and help preserve the intellectual environment of our Academy.
In conclusion, I wish any senior reading this the best of luck in getting into the school of your choice, and to everyone else, good luck in your respective academic pursuits.
Keep on reading & writing!
Sincerely,
Rachel Dynkin

Editor-In-Chief