Wish Masterz

Rietje Becker

bububroady channel

Sean King

Benjamin Chandler

Sam Becker

English

She has always had a fascination in books.They can range anywhere from romance, fantasy and sci-fi.Her favorite genre would have to be sci-fi.Her soft brunette curls falling out of her simple braid as she flips a page.She glances up to see a cat watching her with it's amber eyes.

As she watched its eyes seemed to shift in color. Not possible she thought, and went back to her book. A tale of romance set in a dystopian future, her favorite. The cat walked over and curled up in her lap. It looked so peaceful. Then it looked up and very distinctly said

“Envy me”. The cat smiled as the fire faded. The darkness started to strobe, which made her eyes hurt. She could see visions of a Ferris wheel. It started to spin faster and faster as it went off of the base. She realized that she had forgotten to take her schizophrenia pills.

The cat appeared on her shoulder and whispered in her ear: “you don’t need those silly pills, darling. Now let’s go for a swim!”

A swim, the cat suggested. At this hour? Was that little tabby serious? I said, “I don’t know where my suit is.”

The cat sighed, "You humans are such prudes," then canonballed into the water. "Oh yeah?" I said. I stripped to my skin & jumped in. "Wow!" I said, feeling the water caress my body. "I never felt so free." The cat looked at me. "I meant you could swim with your clothes on, perv."

Catapulting Between Reality and Fantasy

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Lynsie Lucas

Leyre g

Ben Syverson

"Well, that's that," I said, letting the shovel fall to the ground. "What now?"

After my comment of "What now?" The man didn't even peep a word.
The silence was deafening to me.Looking over at the man for a response, I arch an eyebrow. My foot impatiently tapping as I continue to wait for a response.

“Never mind” I said with my hand on my head. Distraught, I walked down the road, with the man behind me, silent. I looked around me as I could see the cold, desolate landscape around me. I could see one story shacks that looked as if I was in Compton.

I approached those huts, the man was still behind me, I could hear his sighs close to me, I felt him close to me, I felt fear close to me. I stood in front of the huts, the man stopped in front of me, "I feel your fears in your eyes" he said as he stared at me.

“It’s not fear, it’s irritation!” I snapped. “For the last time, stop following me! I’m sick of your constant shuffling and sighing. Just… don’t you have friends? A hobby? Go away!”

A low shudder sucked the air from my lungs. My follower shrunk inward unnaturally, then exploded in size, her old skin falling from the sky to reveal her true form: a giant; a fairy; a blacksmith. “Little person,” her voice boomed. “You will follow me now.”

The Final Follower

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Sunny Anomaly

"I'm going to tell you my secret shame. I get Kool and the Gang mixed up with Earth, Wind, and Fire. And vice-versa. All the time." I blushed. "They've threatened to kick me off the roller disco team over this."

“Ma’am, CDs are 50% off, aisle 3,” said the clerk. He seemed too young to know what CDs were, but 50% off was a bargain! Joining the roller disco team was the best thing to ever happen to me. Quickly, I bought every Kool and the Gang and Earth, Wind, and Fire album I could find.

I even decided to grab some My Chemical Romance for those old-school emo days, and a bunch of early Now That’s What I Call Music volumes for nostalgia’s sake. At 50% off, and with CDs going obsolete, the surprising grand total for my fat stack of discs was only

3.45$. I was bored as I looked around the old CD store. “How are you doing?” I asked the cashier. “Good”. I took the CDs and walked out of the store. I could see the old style, Victorian buildings tower over me 3 stories as I walked down the sidewalk.

I rifled through the albums in my bag, tall buildings looking over me. “Barb Springfield,” “Sonny Brown,” “Dirk Doonesbury”—all first editions. I’d made out like a bandit but would I get away with it? I looked over my shoulder, clutching my Discman, before ducking into an alley.

I fumbled a Stacy Needborough CD out of its case and hit play, letting the words wash over me. “Can’t get nuff even if ya got nuff.” As the sitar solo swelled, I began freestyle rapping, eyes closed. By the time I opened them, a crowd had gathered, awed. That was the beginning.

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