​A great oak tree lives in the shadow of its children, who sail freely,
In contagiously blithesome hues of crisp tangerine, they ride the gentle breeze playfully,
It is the world they seek, the delight at seeing nature’s endless creativity wander amazingly.
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Oh destruction is such a beautiful thing
When you can find beauty in everything
Fire burns, consumes, destroys
But tongues of flame dance and rejoice
The fire that burns is just as beauteous
As the scars it leaves
And the blood it bleeds
The ash and smoke and burnt remains
The pastel joy that’s since been maimed
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Watch me rise
And break the sky in half—
I’ll spill my soul across the clouds.
With a single match,
I’ll set the horizon aflame—
I'll burn the night away.
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The little girl drummed her feet on the ground. She heard the rhythm of beautiful colors that swept the town. Her dress fluttered itself toward the mighty mountain that hissed and cooed at Nancy. She stopped, looked around, expecting to see new and friendly faces, applauding her. Instead, she was shrouded by a layer of darkness. It looked like a black night sky, with nonpareil stars that made her smile wide.
She heard herself sing with the wind. The mountains, the clapping, the hissing, the aroma of something delicious and strange. She had heard and smelled it all. For a moment, she stopped. The stars became so bright that her head started aching.
“Mountain. Open my eyes.” She whispered.
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FEATURED WRITER
ANNA LIPINA
Sophomore
This is Anna's second year in Corinthian after joining as a freshman. As a writer, she is incredibly creative, always coming up with fantastic—literally; her writing is almost always fantasy—new ideas. Curiously, she says that she doesn't like reading.
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Anna entered the school district in 7th grade after moving from Russia. Though English may not be her first language, making it a struggle to write in, she continues to pursue her passion in writing. Really, it's quite admirable.
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Once, when asked where all her creative ideas and inspiration comes from, she simply laughed, shrugging, and replied: "My brain." Anna also spoke of how she spends a lot of time daydreaming stories in her head. Perhaps she prefers crafting her own stories to reading others.
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The sun was shining, the people talking, the waiters serving; oh, it was a nice day to drink my morning coffee. The red carpets around the bistro had lost their original bright coloring after being stepped on for years, yet the owner of the bistro still cleaned them every night, brushing off any dirt, removing any stains. The people seemed happy to drink their coffee, for what better way was there to start a breezy November morning than spending 6 euros on a coffee—double espresso serré—and a croissant?
This scene, however, hid a darker secret for M. LeBrun who was sipping on his coffee, fiercely examining his surroundings. The woman he was meeting was not the one he was wearing his ring for; more so, Valentine de la Portaliere was his fiancé’s best friend [.....]