40

The Water’s Edge C l o s i n g R e m a r k s

S p e c i a l T h a n k s

Each year as we select writing and art

to include in The Water’s Edge, we feel

the pressure to create a magazine that

will live up to previous editions.

A special thanks to the yearbook staff

members who helped the literary

magazine staff with fundraising, typ-

ing, and ensuring submissions were

ready for publishing. We would like

to thank Mrs. Lee McKenzie, who

oversaw the creation of the best mag-

azine possible for our school and for

leading the way throughout the whole

process. We are grateful to the peo-

ple who purchased raffle tickets at the

Farm & Field Day event and the Ki-

wanis Club for donating money so

that this magazine could be published.

We are also grateful to the Northern

Neck Burger Company, Pizza Hut,

Walmart and McDonald’s of the

Northern Neck for their generous

donations, which helped make our

magazine and contests a success. Last

but not least, we would like to thank

the students who used their imagina-

tion and creativity to come up with

the amazing art work and pieces of

writing that have been submitted to

The Water’s Edge. We are sorry that

we can’t print all of the work that

was submitted to our publication.

C o l o p h o n

For publication of The Water’s Edge,

we use Microsoft Publisher and

Hewlett Packard laptops to create

our magazine. We used Times New

Roman for the text font and Cop-

perplate Gothic for head-

lines throughout the magazine.

H o w t o S u b m i t

If you would like to share your work

with the students, staff, and commu-

nity of Northumberland High

School, submit your art and/or writ-

ing to the English department so that

your work can be published in next

year’s volume of The Water’s Edge.

We want the magazine to continue

growing, and with your help, we can

make that happen.

The Water’s Edge

The WaTer ’ s edge

N o r t h u m b e r l a n d H i g h

S c h o o l

L i t e r a r y M a g a z i n e

2 015

2

The Water’s Edge

S p e c i a l a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t s

The students at Northumberland High School have many talents. Here

we attempt to demonstrate and showcase the writing and art that our

students have submitted to the magazine for competition or for publica-

tion this year.

This year the literary magazine staff conducted a contest for art, for po-

etry, and for short stories. In the art contest, senior Kayla Bryant took

first place for her digital art “Smooth Flow,” which is displayed on the

cover of this year’s literary magazine; senior Philip Raine took second

place for his pencil drawing “Perspective”; and senior Tyler Reed took

third place for his photograph “Trees.” In the short story contest, Kyle

Hanks won for “Clue: NHS Edition” and senior Wyatt Asbury won

second place for his enlightened tale, “The Wyatt Tree.” In the poetry

contest, junior Parker Childs took first place with his poem “In

Flames,” while Stephen Parker earned second place for “Beauty is in the

Undisturbed” and third went to Gabe Long for the poem “Fifteen.”

Congratulations to all of our winners and to the talented students whose

work was selected for publication this year.

Adviser

Lee McKenzie

Staff

Angela Duke

Mary Ellis

Trinity Bea

Meredith Robling

Cover Art: “Smooth Flow” by Kayla Bryant

39

The Water’s Edge

It is a chance for freedom.

A chance for escape.

To chase the white noise away,

letting you focus on what really matters.

Not the noise of a busy, pointless rush.

But the beauty of mere, simple purity.

The white silence comes

bringing joyous silence.

But soon it will depart,

And the people will return

to their pursuit of happiness and meaning.

They will not thank the white silence

once it has washed away.

The white needs no gratitude.

It is off to gift another with silence,

One day it will return to free us again.

38

The Water’s Edge

The Silence of White

By Kyle Hanks

Going about my day

I hear nothing

but white noise.

The clutter of life

never ceases.

Everyone rushing here to there,

trying to obtain meaning.

A pointless venture for worth,

driving people nowhere but mad

with the white horse.

And then the sirens blare

telling the masses to run and hide

hunker down in their homes

because the storm is coming,

bringing the white silence.

The people who strive

for such trivial accomplishments

fear the bright silence,

stopping everything

and covering their tracks.

But the silence is not an omen.

It is a blessing.

It covers up all of the clutter,

and replaces it with nothing

The WaTer ’ s edge

Title Author Page

Clue: NHS Edition Kyle Hanks et al 4

Perspective Philip Raine 9

In Flames Parker Childs 10

Beauty is in the Undisturbed Stephen Parker 11

Fifteen Gabe Long 12

The Moon Allison Chism 13

Nature Josh Long 14

Nature’s Brisk Winter Air Keith Fisher 15

Reflection Mary K. Hall 16

Reflection Mary K. Hall 17

The Wyatt Tree Wyatt Asbury 18

Trees Tyler Reed 20

The Madison Rap Jakob Hughes 26

Untitled David Gray 28

The Acumen Abode of Mine Jess Thomas 29

The Pull Mary K. Hall 30

A Modern Psalm Olivia Vogel 32

Look and Listen Korty Swift 33

Rain Chryshanda Lee 34

Nature of All Kinds Paul Lamb 35

Thunder and Lightning Amber Bibbens 36

Children of the Tide Kellee Ramsey 37

The Silence of White Kyle Hanks 38

T a b l e o f C o n t e n t s

N H S L i t e r a r y M a g a z i n e

4

The Water’s Edge

First Place

Clue: NHS Edition

By Kyle Hanks (with Brianna Hamblin, Korty Swift, Mary

Kathryn Hall, Quran Veney, Hunter Elam, Macy Swift, and Zach-

ary Hamilton contributing)

Case Number 131: The murder victim, Linda Robb, a librarian at

the Northumberland High School was found dead after a book-

shelf supposedly fell on her, but the police suspected something

else. The murder took place on a teacher work day with no police

officer on the premises at the time. Officer Garland, the officer in

charge of watching over the school, was out on a case of cat bur-

glary. The third period English class was the only group of stu-

dents at the school at the time because they were working on a

short story for the literary magazine competition. They reported

that they heard a loud bang followed by a scream, coming from

the library, so they went to investigate. Arriving at the scene, they

found the victim under a bookcase which had fallen away from

the wall. The students knew something was off because instead of

being ripped out of the wall, which could signal an accident, the

screws were cleanly taken out of the bookcase at some point be-

fore the collapse. The class tried to review the scene on camera,

but the feed had been cut just before the accident took place.

At the scene, items were found that could link the crime to

some of the many teachers present at the time. A wrench from

Mr. Magerko’s room was lying on the librarian’s desk. On several

pages of the books that fell around the victim were lipstick marks.

The lipstick was identified as belonging to Mrs. Swann. On the

corner of the bookcase there were small marks, which revealed

someone had been beating on the side of the case. Along with

that, a single drumstick with Mr. Simmons’s signature was found

lying on the floor. Dr. Burns’s keys were left in one of the doors

leading to the library. He was suspected because he could have

used his keys to gain access to the camera control room and shut

off the cameras. In the trash bin, there was hand sanitizer, clean-

Short Story Contest Winner

37

The Water’s Edge

Children of the Tide

By Kellee Ramsey

The sky is on fire

Bursting pink, yellow, orange, blue

Reflected on the rippling waves

Crashing, coarse grains of salt beneath a blanket of indigo

Fragments and pieces of our memories broken into shells

Palm leaves murmur in the midnight breeze

Clouds gracefully tiptoe above the horizon

Sails dance in the distance, paler than the moon

Currents thrashing violently underneath

Solid and strong an oasis above the sea

The wooden path is secure

Like the anchor of dreams

The turquoise sea is a mirror

Reflecting the elegance of the moon

And the splendor of the stars

Shinning and twinkling high above the shorelines is our treasure

The ocean is alluring

Calling back us children of the tide

The sea stirs our heart

And the waves whisper our name

36

The Water’s Edge

Thunder and Lightning

By Amber Bibbens

I love feeling the rain hit my skin,

Little drops of heaven sinking to within.

The sky goes dark as the clouds emerge.

Away goes the sunlight,

out comes the symphonies of nature.

Boom! Boom! Flash! Crash!

Lightning illuminates the tears falling from the sky,

Strikes free all the hurting souls and troubled minds,

Sets fire to all worn down branches flowing in the wind,

Ignites the air within a sentimental kind of electricity.

The thunder roars through the trees and drips through brush,

Leaping through leaves and over logs, sending out warnings,

For the heavens have been upset and to all beware.

The wind lashes and whip and whirls and twirls

In fear of the crashes, bangs, and flashes.

As the sky brightens again, and darkness becomes light,

The rain goes away and so do the troubled, hurt souls.

All returns to normal and on with our lives we go

Until the next big storm, when the winds, clouds, souls, and

Even God’s rainy tears come falling upon us.

5

The Water’s Edge

ing supplies, and dirty paper towels, meaning someone was re-

cently cleaning the area. It was concluded that it wasn’t a janitor

after one of the students identified the hand sanitizer as belonging

to Mrs. Orem. Also in the library were mysterious chemicals that

could have been used to knock the victim unconscious long

enough to kill her with the bookcase. The only person with access

to these chemicals would be Mrs. Belfield. Another item belong-

ing to Mrs. Belfield that was found was her cat, Roger, who was

just as sweet as ever. Other items in the library were a copy of the

Tribal Times left supposedly by Mr. McCormick and a pair of

glasses that belonged to Ms. Edyvane. After reviewing the scene

of the crime, the class split off to go investigate teachers and staff

that could have potentially been involved.

The first suspect on the list was Mr. Mac Magerko, who

Zach Hamilton volunteered to interview. Though the wrench

seemed to be solid evidence of his involvement, the interview

was short lived due to his relating of the incident to a similar one

in his past career as a coal miner. The main reason the suspicion

has dropped was because although he did have a wrench, the

bookcase was clearly undone with a screwdriver. He stated that

he left the wrench there because Linda Robb needed to use it to

fix her laminator. Mac’s relaxed attitude and talkative demeanor

made it clear that he was not the killer. Next on the list, Macy

Swift decided to visit Mrs. Holly Swann in the guidance office.

At the time of the interview, Mrs. Swann was reported in workout

clothes, stating that she had just gotten back from a dance clinic

at the YMCA. The dance clinic started before the murder had oc-

curred. Macy called the institution and confirmed that her alibi

was correct, meaning that she could not have been the killer.

While their interview was happening, Korty Swift went to inves-

tigate Mr. Christopher Simmons. His statement was that he went

to the library to visit his wife, who is also a librarian at the

school, but after discovering that she wasn’t there he decided to

show the victim a sick drum solo on one of the bookcases. He

reported that the victim got irritated and told him to leave, and

that he must’ve dropped his drumstick on the way out. Mr. Sim-

mons claimed that he was distracted by Mrs. Belfield’s cat jump-

ing around the bookcases and didn’t notice his drumstick fall out

6

The Water’s Edge

of his hand. After reviewing the footage of when his claim sup-

posedly took place, they confirmed that his statement was true.

On his way to snoop through Dr. Burns’ office for clues,

Hunter Elam ran into the principal himself, and decided to take

the opportunity to interview him. Dr. Burns said that he left his

keys in the library because they got stuck in the door, and he had

gone to find a janitor to help him get them out. He said that it was

obvious that he couldn’t have been at the scene during the crime,

because all of the janitors present at the time confirmed that he

had approached them about his issue with the keys at the exact

time that the murder took place. There was a suspicion of him

bribing the janitors to tell that story, but for fear of being ex-

pelled, none of the students followed that claim. The number of

suspects was dwindling fast, and still no major leads. Quran Ven-

ey went to interrogate Mr. Michael McCormick as to why his

copy of the Tribal Times was in the library. Though there wasn’t

a strong connection between him and the murder, it was decided

that it was better to leave no stone unturned. Upon arrival at the

English teacher’s classroom, we found McCormick sitting in his

chair petting Roger, who Ms. Belfield apparently let roam around

during teacher work days. The interview did not go as planned,

because every time Quran tried to ask Mr. McCormick a question,

the teacher interrupted with a sarcastic remark or a plead to pur-

chase a copy of the Tribal Times for the easy price of just 25

cents. After investigating his room briefly, Quran conceited to the

fact that Mr. McCormick was indeed innocent, and decided to

buy a copy of the Tribal Times and read all of the “amazing infor-

mation and stories it had to offer!”

With only three names left on the suspect list, things were

looking increasingly bleaker. Kyle Hanks decided to seek out Ms.

Bonnie Rae Edyvane, to both question why she would leave her

glasses in the library and to apply for a position at Edyvane, Inc.

She was suspected solely on the unlikelihood of her accidentally

leaving her glasses behind. She was suspected to have been in a

rush for some reason, and that was enough to want to question

her. The interview went longer than expected when Ms. Edyvane

made the investigator finish all of his Gen I Revolution assign-

ments before she would provide him with the information he re-

35

The Water’s Edge

Nature of All Kinds

By Paul Lamb

Sunny days

The glare in the water

Wind in the sail

Waves crashing on the bow

Foggy morning

Green wheat field

Hens clucking

Toms strutting

Carp spawning

Cow noses swimming

Garfish grouping

Snakeheads surfacing

Bucks roaming

Squirrels barking

Foxes hunting

Rabbits hiding

34

The Water’s Edge

Rain

By Chryshanda Lee

Falling against my window,

you fill my pain, you cry if I can’t.

Your precipitation is as bold as my tears

Dew, oh dew, how you speak out for me.

Yucky, dirty, mischievous.

They see you as all of those things,

but to me, your courageousness lies within beauty

as you fall you make a sort of rhythm.

The rhythm takes place in my heart

when I feel like there is no breath,

your falling rhythm beats for me as my heart.

You, my friend, give life to the air.

Your calming sound against manmade things

brings life to all silent in the world

with each puddle you create you make a hole,

not one of dark, one of reflection.

A mirror that reflects the beauty,

the beauty within me, but most importantly within you.

With each drop, you fill the air,

you go beyond your confidence to speak to me,

You may be big, you may be small,

but it doesn’t matter

regardless of size you conquer all.

7

The Water’s Edge

quired. After completing the Gen I, Ms. Edyvane told him that

she could not have been the murderer, because at the time of the

crime she was out on her second job as the Chairman of the Unit-

ed States Federal Reserve. She even went on to call up the Presi-

dent of the United States to support her claim. After that was fin-

ished, Ms. Edyvane told Kyle to take a seat while she taught him

the wonders of good financial choices. Reports say that he hasn’t

left that room since, and from outside the door, all you can hear is

a voice explaining in its entirety the functions of the stock market

along with confused and pained moans.

Following the trail of cat hair, Bri Hamblin came across

Mrs. Carol Belfield, in the process of synthesizing more of her

own element, Belfieldium. Bri took the chance to ask Mrs. Bel-

field where she was at the time of the murder. Mrs. Belfield re-

plied saying she was out in the parking lot giving Mr. Belfield his

collection of 750 Mariah Carey CD’s. Bri then asked if she could

come in and search the lab for any clues. Mrs. Belfield agreed,

and Bri started her search. In the lab, Bri found none other than

the screwdriver that could have been used to take the bookshelf

off of the wall. After questioning Mrs. Belfield, the height chal-

lenged chemistry teacher pointed the students toward Mrs. Kate-

lyn Orem. Bri then contacted the rest of the students only to find

out that Mary Kathryn Hall was already on her way to Mrs.

Orem’s. After intense questioning of Mrs. Orem’s involvement,

the rest of the students made their way up to the lab and took the

opportunity to examine the screwdriver. The mood of the room

was becoming more and more intense as Korty Swift prepared to

examine the screwdriver under a microscope. Before she was al-

lowed to start the examination, both science teachers almost sim-

ultaneously snapped at her for not wearing proper safety equip-

ment. After she had put her goggles on she found, to everyone’s

surprise, traces of Belfieldium.

The students looked around to notice that Mrs. Belfield

had run off unexpectedly. It did not take long for the students to

find her, because everywhere she went she left a trail of cat hair

and the scent of chemicals. The trail ended with all of the stu-

dents standing outside of a broom closet, with Hunter Elam ready

to force the door open. To their surprise the door was neither

8

The Water’s Edge

locked nor blocked off, allowing them to easily get it open. Inside

the closet they found the culprit, now dressed in cat ears and a

goofy cat mask with Roger upon her shoulder.

“My dear Roger has kept tabs on your investigation, stu-

dents.” Mrs. Belfield said to them. “I knew you were coming, and

it was only a matter of time before you found me. I needed to get

Ms. Robb out of the picture, so I could start selling Belfieldium

out of the library. The other librarian was no problem for me; I

could get her out of the picture whenever I needed. The real chal-

lenge was teaching Roger how to use a screwdriver.”

The students detained the wily chemistry teacher and con-

tacted the authorities. Her last words before being handed over to

the authorities were, “What are you going to do, fire me?” The

next day at school was pretty basic compared to what happened,

and the students were ready to relax. That relaxation was short

lived because while in Ms. Gaskins’ class, a single note was given

to the group of students from an anonymous figure who slid the

note under the door. The note read:

“Dear students,

Congratulations on solving the case. In saying that, I re-

quest you heed my advice, I will return and bigger than ever.

P.S. Do you know how hard it is to teach a cat to write?

P.P.S. MUAHAHAHAHA”

[Update] The noise from Mrs. Edyvane’s room has ceased. It is

suspected that the investigator has fallen asleep while listening to

the third consecutive hour of all of the different types of insurance

with complete detail.

33

The Water’s Edge

Look and Listen

By Korty Swift

Nature is elaborate, yet it is

The simplest and truest form of beauty

It doesn’t try to be what its not, it just is

An utter and vast masterpiece

Crafted by gods hands

It whispers and calls, beckons for you to listen, see if for what it is

To listen to the sound it makes by the wind and chirping birds fly-

ing in the air

To see its landscapes, look at the water that carefully flows with

breaking waves

The vibrant spring flowers that blossom under the blazing sun

It makes you feel that you could lie there on the ground and

Look up at the changing clouds in the sky and stay forever

To become a part of the soft green grass that sways in the breeze

Nature isn’t just a Monet that can be admired for a minute and for-

gotten twice as fast

Not only a collection of shining words in a story or poem

Nature is an experience, something that must be felt by the person

Something comprehended by senses, made by your own perception

Nobody can see it, feel it, or hear it the same way

You have to discover it, capture it, and hold it

It has to belong to you, be yours to keep

So look up, and listen again

What does it say to you?

32

The Water’s Edge

A Modern Psalm

By Olivia Vogel

Your works are wonderful, Oh Lord

How can I choose just one praise?

Majesty and beauty surround the earth like a blanket

Which one of these is better than another?

All hold beauty in their own way

All have hope for tomorrow

The glory of Your work remains in all the days and seasons

In whatever season they’re in

Fall to winter, spring to summer

Birth to death, all show Your beautiful craftsmanship

I find a place of solace and serenity in them all

Regardless of where I’m standing

And how I’m looking at things

Your craftsmanship sparks joy, hope, and love into my heart

And I delight to follow Your ways

Even though I often stumble

I can find shelter in You

A rock to give me strength and peace.

9

The Water’s Edge

Pencil Drawing by Philip Raine “Perspective”

10

The Water’s Edge

Poetry Contest Winners

First Place

In Flames

By Parker Childs

A winter day that started like many,

sun rising over the river,

with ice on the riverbanks,

and snow along the lands.

With a simple spark,

a fire of ignites,

giving rise to fear in many.

Fear of jobs lost, injury,

and the loss of a legacy.

Time stood still,

flames reaching to the sky,

fireman frozen from the cold air

and sweating from the heat of the blaze.

The flames of fire tried to take

away the passion, the pride,

yet what stands wants to remain.

Time and each new day

brought new life to a old vision:

a family who works together,

dreams together, and survives

the flame.

31

The Water’s Edge

No.

Stay straight, strong.

Don’t let it tag along

Leave it behind

It doesn't belong

You’re on the right path

You’re alone

You’re making the right choices

Don’t be scared

Don’t listen to the voices

The things that follow

Will always be around

They want to stop you, and they will try

Stay straight, keep moving forward

But beware of the pull that comes from behind.

30

The Water’s Edge

The Pull

By Mary Kathryn Hall

Alone I was

Alone on this road

Alone in my thoughts

Alone on this night

And alone I walked

Not gonna stop

Keep moving

Don't look back

Whatever you do

Do not look back

I can feel it now

Feel it pulling

It wants me to stop

Wants me to turn back

Keep your eyes ahead, keep them locked

I can't tell

what it is

Is the real or is it my mind?

Am I on the right path?

Or should I wait for what's behind?

Help, please someone help

What do I do?

Where do I go?

Should I give in?

Do I let my fear show?

11

The Water’s Edge

Second Place

Beauty is in the Undisturbed

By Stephen Parker

The human quest is to acquire true beauty

To amass artwork, to collect jewelry,

But in the end, what can be said about these objects

Other than "why?"

A painting of a tree is not better than a tree.

A photograph of snow just the same

A sculpture of a towering mountain

Is not genuine.

Life was made to be enjoyed,

To be viewed in its entirety,

To be gazed upon in awe,

Not to be captured, still, in a frame.

The eyes are natural

The body is like any other animal

The mind is designed to comprehend the wilderness

So why trap yourself?

Pleasure is not found in the pastel greens of a canvas

But rather from the rich greens of nature

Or the deep greens of the sea

Just as nature intended.

12

The Water’s Edge

Third Place

Fifteen

By Gabe Long

Fifteen we thought we were old

Fifteen we thought we were tough

Fifteen we thought we were stuck in a building with a heart of

cold

Fifteen we played a little rough

Fifteen years later in company six

Fifteen years later overseas

Fifteen years later we remember all our tricks

Fifteen years later we wish we were young

Fifteen years later wish we were in the building with a heart of

gold

Fifteen years later ready to go home

Fifteen years later getting too old too roam

Thirty years later sitting at home

Sixty years old

Fifteen year old grandkids play a little rough

Grandkids think they are tough

I have to remind them to not get old.

29

The Water’s Edge

The Acumen Abode of Mine

By Jess Thomas

In the everyday ordinary,

I perceive myself to hide,

Behind a thick mask of confusion,

Distress and even more-so

I discover myself on a constant quest,

To scurry and conceal myself from reality.

I proceed to place of reduced uncertainly,

A place that no one but me can recall,

The epithet it’s given is my Acumen Abode,

I get there by taking a slight stroll,

Down a sable and sapphire route,

There is no specific terminus,

To my distinctive and convert path,

Just where the verdant terrain,

Transforms to sun-struck azure,

I perch upon a defeated and dilapidated dock,

Just superior to the water down below,

Allowing myself to clear my mind,

To appreciate the greatest gift existence,

To comprehend that I am real,

Just a minuscule fragment,

In a colossal world of morals and righteousness,

I examine the interval that lies linear to me,

The gift of sunset,

The pigments that alter upon the horizon,

And in a temporary amount of time,

I observe them vanish slowly,

Away with every single one of my worries,

To commence the next day anew.

28

The Water’s Edge

Untitled

By David Gray

My rage burns higher and higher like a fire

causes so much fear like I’m an evil king

I prefer to be called sire

if you called me soft you’re a liar

first degree consequences are dire

It feels so wrong

now you’re gone

I know it won’t be long

before our paths cross again

but it’s over, fini

We’re finished

relationship diminished

It was perfect but I wonder

was it worth it

she was like a four leaf clover

an alcoholic

the final day of our relationship

her words were toxic

I miss her warm touch

I guess she didn’t miss me much

considering she had another boyfriend

maybe I was her toy friend

she’s gone so

I guess it’s time to move on

13

The Water’s Edge

Honorable Mention

The moon

By Allison Chism

The moon is shining,

After dark,

Bright and lonely,

Flawed yet beautiful,

But no one is around to see,

In a sea of stars,

The moon stands out,

Noticeably different from the rest,

Yet it somehow goes unnoticed,

Forgotten about,

With its dark side turned away,

All secrets are hidden,

Buried deep in the shadows,

The moon puts up a front,

And lights up the sky,

The moon continues to shine,

Long after dark,

It shines its brightest,

With hidden beauty,

And no one is around to see.

14

The Water’s Edge

Honorable Mention

Nature

By Josh Long

People are filled with sadness,

Flowers grow scarcer by the day

The beauty of nature is overlooked

Forests are being destroyed

And the pure air is tainted.

We abuse the resources

And take for granted.

That trees will always be green

And seas will always be blue

With wildlife forever thriving.

Manmade smoke blocks the vision

Of society as a whole

No one appreciates

Nature’s natural wonders

They just take advantage of them.

Industry and technology

Fill modern human life

While nature seems to hide,

Receiving no appreciation

For its true greatness.

27

The Water’s Edge

Hit up Jackson and Harrison

They broke out the whole garrison

Now down in New Orleans

Key lyrics were pourin’

From one great man’s quill

Would our new anthem spill

That’s the story of a man

Willing to take a stand

For what he believed was true

All hail the red, white, and blue

26

The Water’s Edge

The Madison Rap

By Jakob Hughes

Product of the revolution

A man with a solution

A fix for our nation

With a brand new proclamation

To establish security

And ensure prosperity

He wrote the federalist papers

To bond all his neighbors

Yeah, he was the real champ

He lit up our future like a lamp

Though he thought mankind could be trusted

Corruption had been busted

Come time to ratified

Madison was a whole new guy

Now he hailed from the right

Making our country fly like a kite

Having seen real human nay-chuh

This thing was a no-brainuh

The man took a few late nights

And he made the bill of rights

Had to save the people

From the necessary evil

So he took our country to war

Had to defend our shores

15

The Water’s Edge

Honorable Mention

Nature’s Brisk Winter Air

By Keith Fisher

As I walk through the brisk winter air,

The wind chills me to the bone.

Now I may be on my way home,

But I will not rush and dismiss the beauty of nature.

As I walk through the brisk winter air,

The darkness of the night overshadows me.

Now it may be dark but I can still see,

And I will not dismiss the beauty of nature.

As I walk through the brisk winter air,

I feel so cold as if it’s even chilling m hair.

Now it may be getting colder,

And I certainly am growing older,

So why dismiss the beauty of nature?

As I walk through the brisk winter air,

You may now be able to see,

How important nature is to me,

That is why I will not dismiss the beauty of nature.

As I walk through the brisk winter air,

The wind is beginning to through and tear.

Now Mother Nature may not be fair,

Or may not even seem rational to care,

But I will never dismiss the beauty of nature.

16

The Water’s Edge

Honorable Mention

Reflection

By Mary K. Hall

The water was still

The leaves were still

The air was still

Everything about that day was still

Even me

I didn’t want to move

I couldn’t move

It was so beautiful and soothing

I didn’t want to leave

I wanted that moment forever

You couldn’t tell whether the world was right side

or upside down

The reflection of the scenery was an exact match

The earth painted its own picture

The earth out did itself

The sun set at just the right time

You wouldn’t believe it even if you saw

Mother nature at her best

Little things that will take away your breath

As simple as a mere reflection

25

The Water’s Edge

Chapter 6

I see the Wyatt tree. It has begun to sprout again. Little

feet sticking from the leaves. I see the eye, and it is as if it has

become a blue second sun. The lost Wyatts come from the fields

and from the trees and they join me in haste… They do not see

me. The rush out and drop to their knees as they begin to beg for

the eyes to take them. They have a new language… They speak

my language.

The light shines on me but not upon them. A soporific

feeling, I feel my body begin to incinerate.

I go blind as the lights begin to glow. I feel it. I feel what

they feel. I feel what I have felt before. My head becomes clear as

I begin to rise out of the midst of this odd and sad, sad world. I

rise into the eye. I feel my body slowly burn then the arm returns,

gripping me, pulling me further into the eye. I feel my soul leave,

then, I feel my mind leave my soul.

I feel at home. It’s a feeling I have never felt before in this

second life. I embrace it. I embrace every moment, every second.

I enjoy the burn I no longer feel. I no longer have emotion. I no

longer know, nor do I care about anything at all. I have come to

question the question: What is an existence?

I feel my mind enter my third life.

At long last, I have entered my third eye.

24

The Water’s Edge

a suitable something of importance.

A year passes, and finally I can see what they are building:

a ship. They have constructed a ship of sorts. They have created

what appears to be a spaceship. Slowly, they back away, all of

them, joined hands surrounding the ship, and they drop down

again, as if they are to rest again. They don't break their hands

apart, but quite the opposite, they become one with themselves.

They are all silent, and they are all still again. But, what I thought

was another rest only took an hour or so, and I notice lights as all

around their eyes begin to glow. They glow bright and wide, and

as their eyes open more, they shoot beams of light, which slowly

soften and relax into a small focused circle. Then they all turn to

me.

I feel myself begin to tremble and shake. I am afraid. I am

terrified. I am nothing. I am a ghost, a spirit. Nothing more than

the definition of death: Nothingness. I see, as they stare at me, in

their foreheads, dead center, where their eyes meet, another light.

It stares at me, too.

I see this phenomenon develop in each of them, simultane-

ously, these beams of lights focus on me. Their attention breaks

off of me, and they shoot their beams into the sky.

It is a pretty day. The sun is out, and it is just before noon,

so the sun is not quite centered. I watch it as it centers over me.

The Wyatts rise and float back to their feet. They all, individually,

approach and board their ship. I hear a loud sound of lasers. The

ship begins to glow and hover off the ground. It begins to blast

away into the air and into the sky, directly into the sky.

Slowly the ship ascends and approaches the end of my at-

mosphere, and then it begins to burn. As it burns, the sky begins

to rip itself open… the sun begins to rip open. A fluorescent arm

reaches out into the sky and caresses the ship, stopping its burn-

ing, pulling it into the tear. The arm disappears. The tear slowly

closes and opens again. Finally, I realize it's an eye, a somnifer-

ous, beautiful, blue, bright, shimmering eye that has now cast its

vision upon me.

It blinks again.

17

The Water’s Edge

Photo by Mary Kathryn Hall

18

The Water’s Edge

Second Place Short Story

The Wyatt Tree

By Wyatt Asbury

Chapter 1

It's a cold day, a lonely day. It's my last day here on this

green, once golden earth. As I stand here in this field, I feel my

body give away to the empty sounds of the wind, and the loneli-

ness of the sun, as I drop down, and I feel my life leave my body.

I blink twice, one slower than the last, and I feel my limbs go

limp, and I feel my chest as it begins to stop. I blink a second

time, only to see the ground fade from my vision, and slowly the

air follows it. Slowly, I follow it.

There I am, dead. Gone, I died; I'm no longer a human

being. People will only reference me in the past tense. I am no

longer an "am", but I am now a "was". People will no longer care

or take me into consideration. People will no longer hate me, or,

at least, very few people will. And, to be honest, I feel no differ-

ent. I can still breathe, or I imagine I am breathing. I can still feel,

or I imagine I am feeling. I feel fine. I'm okay with being dead. I

feel like I've lived through much worse

I stand before my body. I feel like only a couple minutes

have passed, but already my body has begun to decay. I stand be-

fore it, watching it. The flies and the worms eat their way through

me as my body is absorbed by the dirt. It's not the worst thing I've

ever seen, but it just makes me think that nature has a disgusting

habit that is usually overlooked. Maybe this form of nature can be

overlooked. As I look down where my body was, where it rotted,

where I died, I notice a sprout. But not just any normal natural

sprout of parasites and fungi, but a sprout of something much

greater.

I let some time pass as the sprout grows into a plant, and I

begin to realize that this is no fungus, but, a tree. It has sprouted

into a tree. It's a little wooden stem with two little green leaves.

It's a pretty tree. Have I created this magnificent beauty, or did

this come from the dirt, all alone, all by itself? No seed, no ances-

tor, no predecessor, but just one lonely tree?

23

The Water’s Edge

bringing it down. It's been three days, and already they have

brought down thousands of trees. The fields open up as they har-

vest.

With timbers piled up behind them, they begin to take a

break. All of them drop down to a seated position. They cross

their legs and close their eyes. They rest their hands upon their

knees and they go silent, dead still. They are so still I cannot see

their chest expand and shrink per draw of breath. I look closer. I

cannot see their eyes even flicker. So still... I wonder if I am even

seeing them. I wonder if I can even see myself.

Time passes. Hours pass. Days pass. Months pass. Years

pass. Weathers and storms, they pass as well. Enough time has

passed, it seems like God has risen and passed away, meant to

come back a third time. And still, here they rest. The snow has

come and has frozen them, and then it has melted and they rest,

soaked. The sun has come to dry them, and then they rest, red and

blistered.

Finally, after years of waiting, after so many blinks of my

own eyes, their eyes begin to blink as well. Their eyes look with-

ered, but they begin to fully come to consciousness. They rise

straight up, as if they floated to their feet. They look directly up

and then around, directly at each other. Slowly, they nod and as-

sume their work in the trees. Pushing and pulling and breaking

each tiny fiber, harvesting again.

They work and work for days more, much faster, but with

a reduced harvest. Finally, they come to an end. Miles, days left

of trees to be collected, yet they stop here, two thousand, nine

hundred and ninety nine trees. Why here? Why now?

The Wyatts surround their collection and nod. They com-

municate through their unorganized language as they begin to

break the trees again.

Chapter 5

As the Wyatts break the trees, they slowly begin to build.

I can make out tiny little structures and shapes. They work in

unison, breathing in union, every move they make, every breath

they take, is all together. No one works individually. Like ants

building a suitable home for their queen, the Wyatts are building

22

The Water’s Edge

out that it’s another… Me? I begin hearing thump after thump.

The people are beginning to fall from the tree! I watch them fall

from their branches. It isn't long before I realize that these aren't

normal people. These aren't a new evolutional race of being, but it

is a tree producing me. It produces clones of me. It produces Wy-

atts.

Chapter 3

I sit in awe as I witness the miraculous beauty of myself in

a new form rise out of the soil and grow to be me. Though, fresh-

ly grown Wyatts stand up and scream, they run around chasing

each other, they yell to each other in a language I am unfamiliar

with. It sounds like African tongues or an understood form of gib-

berish that only they can answer in and can communicate with.

At first they spend hours within the same vicinity, con-

fused and afraid. Two handfuls of them run away from the fields

and into the forests to the rivers. The rest split into, what looks

like, two unorganized factions on each end of the field. There

look to be about ninety of me left. The rest ran away.

The Wyatts stand near each other, now meandering. Some

hold hands and they skip down the field, some congregate closer

to each other, communicating, shaking hands as if acknowledging

their existence. I wonder if they truly know who they are or what

they are. I wonder if they full understand the fact that they are the

same person.

Each Wyatt seems to have his own gibberish name. I can

tell as they yell the same syllables to communicate with a specific

Wyatt. They all begin to stray away to the trees slowly, kind of

like a herd of lost sheep. They just move ahead in an unorganized,

unintelligent fashion. But, something about them, something

about their unorganized communication, as they point to the trees

and yell odd sounds and syllables, is focused on the sky. Maybe

they have an intelligent plan.

Chapter 4

They begin to swarm the forest; then they begin to rip at

the trees. Shaking and pushing and pulling, they rip their way

through each tiny fiber on the tree, releasing it from its base and

19

The Water’s Edge

Chapter 2

It's been three years since the sprout. The tree, well, it has

grown into a large tree, faster than all the other trees for its size.

And at the top, I can see, sprouting feet. They at least look like

feet. Maybe they are a fruit. Not a very colorful fruit, with its pale

visage.

I let time pass more. I blink and, well, it seems like only a

couple of minutes. But in this reality, it has been another three

years. That's a lot to me. I check the fruit, but this is even stranger

to me. Six years and this "fruit" has developed into what look like

human leg, but now there are 200 legs. They all look the same. Is

this tree able to produce people? A whole new race of intelligent

people? Is this evolution? I sit at the bottom of the tree, and I

wait. I want time to pass. I want to see what kind of nature this is.

I blink again… And again. Twelve years pass. A whole

twelve years since my death. Nobody has come to my body. No-

body has searched for me. It's enough to make you think badly

about yourself. My last few years were not the best. They were

my quietest. No friends, no family, no dreams and no future. A

sad, sad world I lived in. Though, I can't remember how I man-

aged to stumble to a field. Was I drunk? Maybe. A never ending

mystery I guess.

Twelve years have passed since my death. Twelve years

since the sprout of the tree. I see the legs that it has produced, and

I begin seeing torsos emerge, and I see the legs dangle from the

half-formed bodies. It's now one hundred bodies. All again look

the same. It's an interesting development.

The tree reacts to the weather changes. When it's cold, the

leaves and the branches move in closer to the tree to keep itself

warm and keep the bodies from freezing. When it's warm, the tree

expands fully to let the bodies grow and keep everything, I guess,

stable.

I get tired a lot, especially when I must wait. I lay my

head down on the soil and I close my eyes, hoping to nap. I lay

for five seconds, then, I hear a thump. I open my eyes, and I shoot

out of my dormant napping state. And I see a body. I see a hu-

man! But, this human looks oddly like me.

I hear another thump further away, and I look only to find

20

The Water’s Edge

21

The Water’s Edge