AGATHONVOLUME XLV, ISSUE I

AgathonFall 2010

2

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS:

NOVEMBER 23, 2010:After 45 issues, we

are finally bringing

the Agathon into the

21st century. This

year we will publish

three oniine issues

and one final print

issue in the spring.

Enjoy.

3

Volume 45.1

Editors-in-Chief Melissa Martin Taylor Schwartz

StaffSamantha Barnett Andrea BlattAidan CoyleCole DattelBen DenzerSkylar Devins

Advisor Sarah Knopik

Artwork Writing

Sonia LarbiOlivia Hill

Soumya Vemulapalli / Kaya LeGrand

Erin Bax

Sophie Brous / Skylar Devins

Mallory Hilvitz

Becky Blades-PhillipsLexi Dixon

David White

Karen Folgarelli

OUR STAFF:

Kaya LegrandConor McMannSarah PourakbarDavid WhiteKathleen White

Alexx Graham

Aaron Dupuis

Declan Coyle

Melissa Martin

Taylor Phillips

Jared GillenJared GillenChad Luetje /

Alex Hanshaw-

Baskar Lorelei Culver

456789101112131415 16

17

Ode to County Paris / Alexx Graham / Ninth

Within the stony tomb doth lieIn undeserving death doth dieFor whom the lofty winds doth sighMore man than Romeo

Who pined and longed for JulietAnd never once did cause upsetToo caught within the beauty’s netLoved more than Romeo

Who saw beyond a pretty faceAnd who the bonds of love embraceTo put him in his cobwebbed caseAt the hands of Romeo

Mourn not for fair CapuletOr for Montague do fretBut pity we the deadly setOf Count Paris by Romeo

{olivia hill / fifth}

AgathonFall 2010

{sonia larbi / tenth}

4

Ode to County Paris / Alexx Graham / Ninth

Within the stony tomb doth lieIn undeserving death doth dieFor whom the lofty winds doth sighMore man than Romeo

Who pined and longed for JulietAnd never once did cause upsetToo caught within the beauty’s netLoved more than Romeo

Who saw beyond a pretty faceAnd who the bonds of love embraceTo put him in his cobwebbed caseAt the hands of Romeo

Mourn not for fair CapuletOr for Montague do fretBut pity we the deadly setOf Count Paris by Romeo

{olivia hill / fifth}

{sonia larbi / tenth}

5

Volume 45.1

AgathonFall 2010

{kaya legrand / twelfth}

6

{soumya vemulapalli / sixth}

Company / Aaron Dupuis / Tenth

He had traveled many nights upon the broken dusty road. The moon was his only companion, and by its light he trudged slowly towards an unknown goal. Often he stared up at the moon wondering at its beauty. As he gazed above him toward the heavens he noticed that another source of light was slowly making its way into his field of vision. He cast a glance to his left, and his heart skipped a beat.

It had been months since he last saw a working street light, or a working anything for that matter. A bittersweet mixture of nostalgia filled him as he stepped under the lamp. The yellow beams engulfed him, bathing him in artificial light. Smiling softly to himself he listened to the industrial buzz of the bulb atop the rusted silver pole.

Suddenly the buzz changed its tone, the hum became a scream, the scream a whimper, and the light was gone. Now, all too aware of the danger he looked toward the sky to find his old friend, but the clouds had already blocked the moon from view. Cold and alone he was consumed by the things within the dark.

7

Volume 45.1

AgathonFall 2010

8

{erin bax / twelfth}

My Double Dare / Declan Coyle / SecondThis is my nasty recipe for witch’s brew. First, I will put in 70 slimy ghosts. Next, I will put in 27 stink ounces of blood. Then, I will drop in 44 freaky, yellow eyeballs. Last, I will put in 7,000 secret mummies. Try it if you want to go to the hospital.

9

Volume 45.1

{sophie brous / kindergarten}

{skylar devins / ninth}

AgathonFall 2010

10

El Café / Melissa Martin / Eleventh

El joven estaba atormentado por todos los días después. Cada domingo él visitaba varios cafés, buscaba a la niña

perfecta. Era desesperado. Ella no estaba en ningún lugar. Los camareros le daban miradas simpáticas, preo-

cupadas, y escépticas porque el joven siempre quedaba allí por mucho tiempo. Nunca se apartaba de las ven-

tanas en caso de que ella pasara por la acera. Él bebía tanto café que comenzaba a odiarlo. Pero todo valdría la pena si la viera. Por desgracia, las horas solas y aspiran-tes se convirtieron en un lastre para él. Después de unos

meses, el joven abandonó su causa fútil.

Un año había pasado hasta los dos se conocieron. El hombre había seguido adelante con su vida. Tenía una

novia. Sin embargo, la memoria de la chica en el café le atormentaba todos los días. Un día, todo cambió. La novia quería una taza de té por la tarde de un domingo

lluvioso. El hombre sugirió que ellos fueran a un café con ventanales grandes para que pudieran mirar el tiempo

melancólico. La pareja condenada salió de su vida ante-rior y entró en la lluvia con su paraguas compartido.

Cuando ellos llegaron al café, el camarero grosero los

sentó pero no reconoció al hombre. Todos los eventos del día extraño y magnífico inundaron la mente del hombre.

El hombre estaba mirando por el ventanal a la terraza cuando, de repente, de rabillo del ojo, él vio un cuaderno

viejo y familiar en la mochila de una figura oculta por una gabardina. Ella se volvió por un instante y vio al

hombre aislado en la ventana. Él salió corriendo del café, dejando a una chica confusa y entrando en la vida de sus sueños. De repente, la lluvia paró y el sol brillante emer-

gió de las nubes suaves, adornando los dos con su luz.

11

Volume 45.1

{mallory hilvitz / faculty}

{lexi dixon / second}

AgathonFall 2010

{becky blades-phillips / parent}

12

A tree that loves a flowerneed all comfort let behindfor a flower can be looked atbut will never once be climbed

That tree that loves the flowermust accept the fate of treesand turn love to loved the flowerlest its heart fall with its leaveslest the dream fall with its leaveslest the self fall with its leaves

A Tree That Loves a Flower/ Taylor Phillips / Twelfth

A tree that loves a flowergrows more rings within its corewhether it has lived the years the rings dictate or more

A tree that loves a flowermust bid its rose goodbye.For a flower reaches to the grass,the tree attempts the sky

A tree that loves a flower –forced to let the beauty goleave the safety of the shelter ofthe flower that it knows

{lexi dixon / second}

{becky blades-phillips / parent}

13

Volume 45.1

Feast / Jared Gillen / Seventh

“BesafetonightChristopher.” “Mom,Ikeeptellingyouit’sChris.You’vewastedalmost15minutes!Nowit’s8:15!Don’tworry,I’llbeperfectlyfine.” ItseemedasifthisnighthadbeenplannedperfectlyforHalloween.IscurriedoutthefrontdoorintothepitchblackdarknesswiththeemptysackhungovermyarmafterIbrokefreeoftheforeverlonglastinglectureaboutsafety.Thewindshriekedsomuchitwasasifyouwereabull’s-eyefortheblow-ingleavestostrike.Themultiplehowlsfromcoyotessoundedasiftheywerehuntinginpacks. Ineverunderstoodwhymyparentstrustedmealoneatage11.Attimestheyjustsetmeloosetotakeontheworld.TheytoldmethoughnevertocrosstheabandonedstreetofSleepyHollowtoMrs.Pattrino’s.Herhousewassodilapidateditlookedlikeanoldshackwithcollapsingwindows.Myparentsalwayssaidshewaslittlemoonstruck.NoonereallyhadgottenthechancetoknowMrs.Pattrino.Inmyopinion,sheseemedseemlikealonelygrandmother.Supposedlyshedishedoutthebestcandyaround.OnHalloweenthereareusuallyrumorsaroundtheneighborhoodabouttheabductionsofchildren.Onemore,twomore,threemoremissingchildrenaftertrick-or-treating.Nothingeverproventhough.Once,copsinvestigatedallaroundtheneighborhood.Theysearchedforchildrenineveryhouse.Noonewasfound.It’sbeensaidthatinoneoftheroomsinMrs.Pattrino’shousetheyfoundverybigchickenbonesfromapreviousdinner.AllIeverthoughtofthoserumorswasitsjustpartofthespookinessofHalloween. AfterIfledoutthedoor,IboltedtowardtheaccumulatedpileofrainponchoslyingonthebrickdoorstepofmyneighborstheShades.AfterIputtheponchoinmyalreadysoddenbag,Irangthepennysizeddoorbellwhichroaredlikealion.Frommyperspectiveitlookedliketherewasafaintflameofacandleburninginthedistance.Nooneappearedinfrontofme.WhileIwasleaving,Iheardspineshiveringscreechesfromtheabandonedroad.Liketherumorsabouttheabductions,Ithoughtit’sjustpartoftheHalloweenspirit.Istoodthereandrealizedthattherewasnodecorationthatcouldimitatethatkindofbloodcurdlingscream.WiththoughtsofterrorstillbuzzinglikeabeeinmyheadIgropedfortheponchoinsidethebag.Despitewhatmyparentssaid,IknewIhadtoexplorethatcliffhanger. WhenIhadtheponchoontokeeptherainfromruiningmycostume,ImadeabreakfortheMrs.Pattrino’spassingalloftheprincesses,powerrang-ersandpirates.Thereweretwochildrenlinedupinfrontofthedoor.WhenIarrived,thedoorcreakedasaplumpandpetiteladywithvultureeyeswhich

AgathonFall 2010

14

15

Volume 45.1

must’vebeenMrs.Pattrinowelcomedeachofusinsidewithacozyblanketandhotchocolate.Shelookeddirectlyatmeandsaid,“Ohyoupoorbaby!Youmusthavebeenoutintheghastlydownpourforhoursbecauseeverythingyou’rewearingissoppingwet.”Icould’veswornthedoorlockedbehindme. “Noma’am.Ihavethisslenderlinecoveringmyself.It’scalledapon-cho.” “Ohmercyme.HoneymyeyesaresobadIdidn’tevennotice.Seemslikemyoldageisactingupagain.Heretakeaseatnexttothosetwo.WhatI’dlikeyoutodoisoverflowthatbagwithdelectablegoodies.Whenyou’refinishedwiththat,I’llcallyouupintheorderofthelinetocomethroughthatwhitedoorandI’lleatyou.” “Ma’am,didyousayeatme?” “DearlordydidI?Blastthisoldage!SometimesmymindgoesblankSweetie.ImeanttosayI’lleatsomecandywithyou.Iyearnforthecandybonessobringatruckloadofthose.” Shewalkedsuspiciouslyintothewhitedooredroomasifshewastryingtohidesomethingfromthethreeofus.Itfeltlikeforeverbeforethefirstchildwascalledintotheroom.Forthefirstcoupleofminutesyoucouldhearchat-terofsmalltalkandcrunchingoftreats.Then,Iheardsomesortofdevicestart.Itmighthavebeenachainsaw.NextthingIknewthesamedevastatingscreechpiercedmyearsashandspoundeddesperatelyonthedoor.Suddenlyallsoundsstopped.Nomorescreaming.Nomorepounding.Nomoredevice. Iattemptedtoescapetothedoorbutitwaslocked.Thesecondkidwascalledin.Shewasshakingandmouthed“helpme!”Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Iranaroundthehouselookingforawayoutbutitwasofnoavailagain.Itriedeverywindowofeveryroomallcoveredincardboard.Inoneroomtherewerepilesofbones.Inanotherwererustykniveswithbloodstillfreshontheblade.Oneslotontheshelfvacant.Allthewindowscovered.Allthedoorslocked.Mymindwasspinning.Suddenly,thesamescreams,samedesperation,justadif-ferentweapon.Agunhadgoneoffdownstairs.Theshotstartledmeforwhatseemedlikeforever.NextthingIknewwarmbreathwasrunningdownmyneck.Coldfingersdancingonmyarms.Iwascaught.Itwasallover. Iwasputintoaheadlockasshedraggedmedownthestairs.Myfeetthuddedonthebrickstairs.OnthemainfloorIwasforcedintothechairwhereIwasrestrainedwithbytwogrimyoldbeltsincrustedinblood.Therewerelargebones.Seemedliketheywereaboutthesizeofahuman’s.Ithoughtforasecondaboutthelargechickenbones.Couldthebonesbe?Ofcourse!Icouldstillseethefleshofthekidslimplyhangingoffthebones.Allthosemur-ders…her.ThelastthingIwouldeverrememberwasherchucklingwithaknifeinhand,“Aspromisedhoney,I’mgoingtoeatyou.”

Autum Leaves / Alex Hanshaw-Bhaskar / Third

I love autumn leavesThey change colors beautifullyJust as they would fall

AgathonFall 2010

16

I Want to Be a Fireman / Chad Luetje / First

I want to be a fireman because I wanted the be one since I was born. First, I am good at Watching TV about fires. Second, I like to be hot like in a fire. Last, I think being a fireman would be awesome.

{david white / twelfth}

17

Volume 45.1

{karen folgarelli}

Once Upon a Time / Lorelei Culver / First

Once upon a time, there was a bucket that lived in a house. One day, the bucket went for a walk in the woods. The same day, it was his birthday. When he got home, what do you thk he saw? Confetti was everywhere. It was a surprise party. Thy had cake and cupcakes. Then he opened his presents. Then, his parents showed him the best thing ever. It was love. The thing he had been waiting for!

Cover Artwork by Miriam FeingoldSubmit to sknopik@barstowschool.org