McCormick Woods
By Jacob Bacon
My vision was hindered by hues of brown and green as I first set foot in McCormick forest. An extensive one hundred and twenty two acres make up the vast, dense woodlot. The footpath before me was made up of pebbles, dirt, dead leaves, and pine needles which made for some interesting texture as I made my way deeper into the timberland. The trees seemed to have me surrounded, as if I was Kylie Jenner and the clusters of cedar were TMZ, but I didn’t feel smothered. Moss had spread up the trees, coating the trunks and branches in a patchy fashion almost as if it was the bark’s own form of body hair. Looking up, the sky was lacking any and all pigment, displaying a curious white-grey hue. I was blinded by most of the upper atmosphere from the leaves and limbs hanging off trees high above. At the time those trees seemed as if they were taller than the Shanghai Tower itself, but in reality, most of them were hardly any taller than a twenty-four story building.
As I trekked further into the woodland, the commotion of the road behind seemed to melt away and be replaced by the wildlife around me instead. The forest seemed to possess its own physique similar to a human’s. Instead of veins however, a creek ran through the brush that provided the timberland a consciousness of its own. The deeper I journeyed into the brush, the smaller I felt. My eyes suddenly rested on a mighty giant laid on its side, the roots uncovered and splayed like entrails. The entire system was out in the open, vulnerable to anyone who dared to cross its path. As I made my voyage down to the brook, the trees seemed to change their standpoint. Rather than feeling as if I was under judgement from the regal cedars, they appeared more observant, as if they were monitoring a small child running around a new playground. The commotion from the thruway was long gone, replaced by the chitter of woodpeckers, the scuffling of vermin, and the murmuring of the stream. Absolute peace was within an arm’s reach.
What binds us to memories?
~Bryan Ellis
~Bryan Ellis
The strangest thing can trigger a memory.
So much more than what the eye can see.
Touch, taste, smell, sight, and sound,
all the senses.
Individually they are weak,
but together our senses are never meek.
A chain,
(sight) can’t believe seeing it brought a memory back to me.
Its purpose was to protect…
But protect what?
(touch) uncoil the metal snake from the wheel.
(smell) gas can’t smell any as I try to start the motor.
(sound) motor starts,
continues running sputtering, and spitting from being cold
(taste) the exhaust fumes… so familiar.
Fond memories of riding dirt bikes with my dad,
I was looking for a tool and I found a memory.
Memories can be brought back by the strangest things,
who knew that something as simple as a old rusty chain,
could bring me back,
to a simpler time of where fun was the center of my world.
A simple memory for a simple object,
the simplest thing can bring back a memory.
So much more than what the eye can see.
Touch, taste, smell, sight, and sound,
all the senses.
Individually they are weak,
but together our senses are never meek.
A chain,
(sight) can’t believe seeing it brought a memory back to me.
Its purpose was to protect…
But protect what?
(touch) uncoil the metal snake from the wheel.
(smell) gas can’t smell any as I try to start the motor.
(sound) motor starts,
continues running sputtering, and spitting from being cold
(taste) the exhaust fumes… so familiar.
Fond memories of riding dirt bikes with my dad,
I was looking for a tool and I found a memory.
Memories can be brought back by the strangest things,
who knew that something as simple as a old rusty chain,
could bring me back,
to a simpler time of where fun was the center of my world.
A simple memory for a simple object,
the simplest thing can bring back a memory.
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Running life
by Kaylee Can any creature but man have a purpose? And who is anyone through the distorted eyes of the morning? A drop of sky falls to the earth and nestles among the slopes of the asphalt. But I take a running jump into the cold glaze anyway. It shatters, sending ripples everywhere. Finally, I felt a sharp tug and I saw it- the blue-white streak cut through the brine like harnessed lightning. The easy lift and fall of my breathing, I’m a riddle in nine syllables, That cannot fly. I don’t need to inhale anything to be cool. I don’t need to go drinking after school. When life is boring, you are a circus, you are a bull fight, you are an airplane. And I am the pilot. |
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Our Personal Singer If there is any evidence of reincarnation I believe that you were an opera singer, Filling the open air with golden tones. But I don't think your singing voice translates into meowing. When you want back in, you open wide for all to hear the smooth sound of nails on a chalkboard. The only time you are quiet is when you are stuffing your face with the gourmet canned food so nicely put out for you on a porcelain plate. Now I haven't heard you sing in months and Your concert hall fills with dust. The bus boy collected the plate that had remnants from your last meal. The curtains fall on the stage but you can still hear the echoes of your golden tones. -Solie Bates |
Sunday School
One morning on a Sunday at my church I got a pass to work with the nursery for the sake of an assignment. I know some of the kids that are in it so they thought it would be okay if I observed some of the kids during a service. As I walk up to the door I can hear screaming and noise from the outside. I walk in and find a place to sit as I immediately witness the stream of constant noise and ruckus of kids playing. Some laugh, some cry, some stay quiet, some are shy, some scream, some run, some are mean, some with no expression. The room is of course kid orientated, covered with crafts, toys, coloring, paint, cribs, and of course the crosses and biblical figures on the walls. I see a couple kids sitting down, a boy and girl playing with a toy computer and not sure what they themselves are really doing. From across the room a group of kids coloring with colored markers canvassing the paper with the spirit of an eagle, free and careless, just all over the place. They must of read Daniel.
A little girl named_____ , all the sudden comes up to me and doesn't really talk but just stares at me until she runs over to the corner to get her toys. I ask her what his name is but she doesn't seem to be much of an extrovert. I think she seems to like me a little considering she's just standing by me and doesn't leave. She tries to shut a box and grabs the lid to close it and starts pounding on it like Travis Barker in a Blink 182 concert, persistent on getting it closed. Another girl named Olivia tries to sit by me.
“Hey, what's your name?” I said.”
“Olivia,” she said quietly.
“Do you want to sit down with me. We can be friends?”
“Ummm. . . sure..”
“Olivia, don't distract him. Come over here,” said the Shannon the worker.
So they made her leave so I could write. I start watching again and see some kids having a truck race and trading and exchanging toy cars. Within the room the movement never stops. The adults are either trying to correct one kids behavior while the other one goes off to do something similar. The essence is so vibrant and lively. I wonder how they keep it going for most parts of the morning and try understand how my cousin Abby feels when she's been working in their for years. It makes me think of what I was like when I was this young. Vague images lay in my head of being in daycares, and attending kindergarten but nothing that sticks too close to a true memory. I remember home videos back when I was little being crazy and rambunctious but never really knew what I was like around other little kids, but I know I probably wasn’t an angel that's for sure. As I begin to leave I get a whole visual of the room and see every kid in their own world, rotating the childish imagination within each one of them. As the reality they live in, is being blocked out by their majestic ignorance. I’ve always wondered at the simplicity of a child and sometimes wish I could turn back time to visit those days again. I open the door and leave the room.
Thesis: The simplicity of young children is a pleasure to watch.
~Story by David
One morning on a Sunday at my church I got a pass to work with the nursery for the sake of an assignment. I know some of the kids that are in it so they thought it would be okay if I observed some of the kids during a service. As I walk up to the door I can hear screaming and noise from the outside. I walk in and find a place to sit as I immediately witness the stream of constant noise and ruckus of kids playing. Some laugh, some cry, some stay quiet, some are shy, some scream, some run, some are mean, some with no expression. The room is of course kid orientated, covered with crafts, toys, coloring, paint, cribs, and of course the crosses and biblical figures on the walls. I see a couple kids sitting down, a boy and girl playing with a toy computer and not sure what they themselves are really doing. From across the room a group of kids coloring with colored markers canvassing the paper with the spirit of an eagle, free and careless, just all over the place. They must of read Daniel.
A little girl named_____ , all the sudden comes up to me and doesn't really talk but just stares at me until she runs over to the corner to get her toys. I ask her what his name is but she doesn't seem to be much of an extrovert. I think she seems to like me a little considering she's just standing by me and doesn't leave. She tries to shut a box and grabs the lid to close it and starts pounding on it like Travis Barker in a Blink 182 concert, persistent on getting it closed. Another girl named Olivia tries to sit by me.
“Hey, what's your name?” I said.”
“Olivia,” she said quietly.
“Do you want to sit down with me. We can be friends?”
“Ummm. . . sure..”
“Olivia, don't distract him. Come over here,” said the Shannon the worker.
So they made her leave so I could write. I start watching again and see some kids having a truck race and trading and exchanging toy cars. Within the room the movement never stops. The adults are either trying to correct one kids behavior while the other one goes off to do something similar. The essence is so vibrant and lively. I wonder how they keep it going for most parts of the morning and try understand how my cousin Abby feels when she's been working in their for years. It makes me think of what I was like when I was this young. Vague images lay in my head of being in daycares, and attending kindergarten but nothing that sticks too close to a true memory. I remember home videos back when I was little being crazy and rambunctious but never really knew what I was like around other little kids, but I know I probably wasn’t an angel that's for sure. As I begin to leave I get a whole visual of the room and see every kid in their own world, rotating the childish imagination within each one of them. As the reality they live in, is being blocked out by their majestic ignorance. I’ve always wondered at the simplicity of a child and sometimes wish I could turn back time to visit those days again. I open the door and leave the room.
Thesis: The simplicity of young children is a pleasure to watch.
~Story by David
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Qumran
Aidan L |
The mockingbird laughs at me and keeps
my keys in its soft beige talons; singing its song. It seems that he’s always been there--across from me. I throw blankets and cloth over him, to seize what’s never really been mine, but my aim is always off. |
"Trophy Bull" by Josh G
“You need to put more time into scouting John.” Stated Chris, John’s closest friend.
That was the first thing Chris told John after a long afternoon of calling and no success while high on Manastash Ridge in Eastern Washington, below them lay the valley nicknamed ‘Narnia’. John and Chris were hunting together up there. John’s first Elk was a cow which he had taken with his Matthews No-Cam while out hunting with Chris, and since then all he could think about was taking a trophy bull.
“I know, I know.” John said with a disapointed tone.
“All hunters make mistakes John, especially during the rut when you have lots of eyes looking at you.” Said Chris, trying to cheer up John.
Early-season Archery is always the most adrenaline filled time for a hunter, and during the rut at Manastash hunters can hear up to several different bulls. That wasn’t the case for John or Chris during early-archery due to drought and temperatures in the mid-90’s for the past month, which delays the rut to later in the season.
“Well should we just not hunt early-season and wait for the rut?” Said John inquisitivly.
“I have a feeling this is your season John, it’s your call.” Said Chris.
Days go by and it’s now the offseason between early Archery and Muzzeloader. During that time John and Chris had decided to scout along Naneum Ridge about twenty miles away from Ellensburg. John drove the two of them the twenty miles out of town parked the truck. They got out with their Vortex spotting scopes and binoculors and placed them in their packs. Then the duo hiked a good two miles to a glassing spot that sits atop a 300 foot tall rock ledge at the junction of three huge draws. Sitting atop the rock outcropping, John and Chris glassed the draws from top to bottom in search for a big bull. As John was glassing along the middle of a draw he saw what looked like a set of antlers poking out above some brush.
“I think I see some antlers down there Chris.”John said quietly.
John pointed to where the bull was sitting and Chris positioned his spotting scope on it. After studying what they thought was a bull for about fifteen minutes they finally saw movement. The antlers turned to the left and the bull stood up. Hot breath came out of its mouth and the bull let out a bugle that sounded like a Beehtoven musical. The symphonic bugle echoed through the hills with a great ambiance that ringed in the men’s ears.
“Hey Chris how big do you think that rack is?” Said Chris.
“Oh, I would say he’s about a 450-inch class bull. He’s deffinatly a trophy bull, maybe he would make the SCI record books.” Said Chris, “and being that he is a trophy bull I think it would be best to back out, and come back early saturday morning when Muzzeloader opens up.”
“Sounds ok to me.” Said John.
They packed their spotting scopes and binos into their packs and went back to the truck. They climbed up in the cab, John pulled out onto the high mountain dirt road and drove the twenty miles back into town. Back in town John turned off the asphalt and drives the long gravel driveway and parked the truck on the parking pad next to the house. John’s wife wasn’t home because of a hunting trip she went on in Colorado, and just like John she was after a trophy bull as well.
“Meet me out back Chris, I’ll get our bows so we can paractice some more.”Said John.
“Alright.”Said Chris.
Clear blue skies sat above John and Chris as they shot their bows. John is holding a Mathews Halon X that is probably the most advanced bow on the market, and Chris is holding a Mathews Creed, a model that’s about ten years old but it still handles well and is fairly light. It doesn’t take the two men long to be shooting tight arrow groups at 20, 30, 40, and as far back as 80 yards. After shooting for about an hour, the guys stopped for the day and placed the bows back in the cases and put them in the garage.
It was the morning before the Muzzeloader season opener. John was awoken to a song playing, he cleared his eyes and saw it was his phone. His wife was calling him from Colorado. He answered.
“Hey Sarah. How’s it going out there in Colorado? Seeing any bulls.” Asked John, just waking up.
“We spotted one yesterday. We tried calling him in but he winded us. He was deffinately a trophy. How’s your week been.” Said John’s wife Sarah.
“Awesome. Chris and I drove out to Naneum ridge yesterday and spotted a monster 450-inch class bull, at least that’s how big Chris thinks he is.” Said John, now fully awake.
“Great, I hope you get him.” Sarah said.
“I do to. Chris and I are going up there tomorrow morning at about 4:30 to get a good start.” Said John.
“I need to go pack my horse, so I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” Said Sarah.
“Alright. I love you too, bye.” Said John, responsively.
“Bye.” Sarah siad, hanging up the phone.
John got out of bed, took a shower and went to the kitchen and made some breakfast. Chris had to go home to Yakima last night due to a short staff at work. Having the house to himself gave John a chance to prepare for tomorrow’s hunt. So John decided to drive to Naneum Ridge and take a mental picture of the terrain where he spotted the bull so he could get a lay of the land. After the outing John went home and studied a map of the Naneum area to better help him. Later that evening he practiced with his Halon X and again shot rifle-like groups.
That night John slept well, because he knew tomorrow was his day. Four o’clock in the morning came along and John was awake and ready for the hunt. Chris arrived and drank a cup of coffee before they headed out. With coffee in their systems and being wide awake they arrived at Naneum Ridge at around six. John opened the driver-side door and heard a bugle.
“Sounds like it’s where that bull was.” Said John quietly.
John and Chris grabbed their bows and packs, tested the wind and walked the two miles down into the draw where the bull was.
Like a battle cry Chris snapped John out of the gaze he had upon the bull by tapping him on the shoulder and making John realize that this was actually happening.
“John, he’s coming this way, he’s coming right at us!” Said Chris, letting out a cow call from his mouth reed call.
Silently and slowly racking an arrow John readied his bow for a shot while Chris ranged the bull. He was at 60 yards, too far. Chris let out another cow call, the bull responded with a bugle and continued walking towards them. Now at 25 yards the bull looked straight at John and Chris. As the bull took two steps to the left, John brought his Halon to full draw and rested his 20 yard pin above the heart right behind the shoulder. Slowly squeezing the release John sent a Gold Tip arrow with a Rage broadhead flying at the bull. The arrow met its mark, cutting through skin, shattering bone, and cutting both lungs making a pass through. The bull flinched and ran 60 yards out into a field and looked back at John and Chris.
The bull made eye contact with John, and John made eye contact with the bull. At that moment John felt a connection with the bull, and he seemed to be saying to John, “You have defeated me hunter. You have fulfilled your journey as a hunter. I have lived my life and I accept this death. Use my body to give you energy, take my antlers so you won’t forget me, and take my hide to keep you warm. Goodbye John.”. With that the bull took his last breath and let out a bugle that sounded like a thousand trumpets that resonated in the men’s ears, hearts, and souls. The bull fell to the ground and died. John felt a tear on his cheek for he knew he had defeated the king of the forest.
That was the first thing Chris told John after a long afternoon of calling and no success while high on Manastash Ridge in Eastern Washington, below them lay the valley nicknamed ‘Narnia’. John and Chris were hunting together up there. John’s first Elk was a cow which he had taken with his Matthews No-Cam while out hunting with Chris, and since then all he could think about was taking a trophy bull.
“I know, I know.” John said with a disapointed tone.
“All hunters make mistakes John, especially during the rut when you have lots of eyes looking at you.” Said Chris, trying to cheer up John.
Early-season Archery is always the most adrenaline filled time for a hunter, and during the rut at Manastash hunters can hear up to several different bulls. That wasn’t the case for John or Chris during early-archery due to drought and temperatures in the mid-90’s for the past month, which delays the rut to later in the season.
“Well should we just not hunt early-season and wait for the rut?” Said John inquisitivly.
“I have a feeling this is your season John, it’s your call.” Said Chris.
Days go by and it’s now the offseason between early Archery and Muzzeloader. During that time John and Chris had decided to scout along Naneum Ridge about twenty miles away from Ellensburg. John drove the two of them the twenty miles out of town parked the truck. They got out with their Vortex spotting scopes and binoculors and placed them in their packs. Then the duo hiked a good two miles to a glassing spot that sits atop a 300 foot tall rock ledge at the junction of three huge draws. Sitting atop the rock outcropping, John and Chris glassed the draws from top to bottom in search for a big bull. As John was glassing along the middle of a draw he saw what looked like a set of antlers poking out above some brush.
“I think I see some antlers down there Chris.”John said quietly.
John pointed to where the bull was sitting and Chris positioned his spotting scope on it. After studying what they thought was a bull for about fifteen minutes they finally saw movement. The antlers turned to the left and the bull stood up. Hot breath came out of its mouth and the bull let out a bugle that sounded like a Beehtoven musical. The symphonic bugle echoed through the hills with a great ambiance that ringed in the men’s ears.
“Hey Chris how big do you think that rack is?” Said Chris.
“Oh, I would say he’s about a 450-inch class bull. He’s deffinatly a trophy bull, maybe he would make the SCI record books.” Said Chris, “and being that he is a trophy bull I think it would be best to back out, and come back early saturday morning when Muzzeloader opens up.”
“Sounds ok to me.” Said John.
They packed their spotting scopes and binos into their packs and went back to the truck. They climbed up in the cab, John pulled out onto the high mountain dirt road and drove the twenty miles back into town. Back in town John turned off the asphalt and drives the long gravel driveway and parked the truck on the parking pad next to the house. John’s wife wasn’t home because of a hunting trip she went on in Colorado, and just like John she was after a trophy bull as well.
“Meet me out back Chris, I’ll get our bows so we can paractice some more.”Said John.
“Alright.”Said Chris.
Clear blue skies sat above John and Chris as they shot their bows. John is holding a Mathews Halon X that is probably the most advanced bow on the market, and Chris is holding a Mathews Creed, a model that’s about ten years old but it still handles well and is fairly light. It doesn’t take the two men long to be shooting tight arrow groups at 20, 30, 40, and as far back as 80 yards. After shooting for about an hour, the guys stopped for the day and placed the bows back in the cases and put them in the garage.
It was the morning before the Muzzeloader season opener. John was awoken to a song playing, he cleared his eyes and saw it was his phone. His wife was calling him from Colorado. He answered.
“Hey Sarah. How’s it going out there in Colorado? Seeing any bulls.” Asked John, just waking up.
“We spotted one yesterday. We tried calling him in but he winded us. He was deffinately a trophy. How’s your week been.” Said John’s wife Sarah.
“Awesome. Chris and I drove out to Naneum ridge yesterday and spotted a monster 450-inch class bull, at least that’s how big Chris thinks he is.” Said John, now fully awake.
“Great, I hope you get him.” Sarah said.
“I do to. Chris and I are going up there tomorrow morning at about 4:30 to get a good start.” Said John.
“I need to go pack my horse, so I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” Said Sarah.
“Alright. I love you too, bye.” Said John, responsively.
“Bye.” Sarah siad, hanging up the phone.
John got out of bed, took a shower and went to the kitchen and made some breakfast. Chris had to go home to Yakima last night due to a short staff at work. Having the house to himself gave John a chance to prepare for tomorrow’s hunt. So John decided to drive to Naneum Ridge and take a mental picture of the terrain where he spotted the bull so he could get a lay of the land. After the outing John went home and studied a map of the Naneum area to better help him. Later that evening he practiced with his Halon X and again shot rifle-like groups.
That night John slept well, because he knew tomorrow was his day. Four o’clock in the morning came along and John was awake and ready for the hunt. Chris arrived and drank a cup of coffee before they headed out. With coffee in their systems and being wide awake they arrived at Naneum Ridge at around six. John opened the driver-side door and heard a bugle.
“Sounds like it’s where that bull was.” Said John quietly.
John and Chris grabbed their bows and packs, tested the wind and walked the two miles down into the draw where the bull was.
Like a battle cry Chris snapped John out of the gaze he had upon the bull by tapping him on the shoulder and making John realize that this was actually happening.
“John, he’s coming this way, he’s coming right at us!” Said Chris, letting out a cow call from his mouth reed call.
Silently and slowly racking an arrow John readied his bow for a shot while Chris ranged the bull. He was at 60 yards, too far. Chris let out another cow call, the bull responded with a bugle and continued walking towards them. Now at 25 yards the bull looked straight at John and Chris. As the bull took two steps to the left, John brought his Halon to full draw and rested his 20 yard pin above the heart right behind the shoulder. Slowly squeezing the release John sent a Gold Tip arrow with a Rage broadhead flying at the bull. The arrow met its mark, cutting through skin, shattering bone, and cutting both lungs making a pass through. The bull flinched and ran 60 yards out into a field and looked back at John and Chris.
The bull made eye contact with John, and John made eye contact with the bull. At that moment John felt a connection with the bull, and he seemed to be saying to John, “You have defeated me hunter. You have fulfilled your journey as a hunter. I have lived my life and I accept this death. Use my body to give you energy, take my antlers so you won’t forget me, and take my hide to keep you warm. Goodbye John.”. With that the bull took his last breath and let out a bugle that sounded like a thousand trumpets that resonated in the men’s ears, hearts, and souls. The bull fell to the ground and died. John felt a tear on his cheek for he knew he had defeated the king of the forest.
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Mountain biking is a dangerous sport but also one of the most fut. It takes a lot of practice to perfect your riding style. You cant be afraid to go off big jumps. Some riders go to Crank Works in Whistler, Canada. These rider’s have been practicing their whole lives for the event. They are the best riders in the world.
You do need proper equipment which includes helmet, elbow and knee pads and vans seem to work best with pedals. ~Justin |
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An English Teacher’s Journey
A Creative Writing Project put together by:
Jacob, Micah, Josh, Armando, David, Aidan, Miles. Where does inspiration come from?
Check out the story to see how a creature like the one to the right could inspire Eileen. Story Here |
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Blueberry Cheese Cake , Makes 2
Filling: Ingredients:
1lb. white sugar ½ cup.Heavy Cream ¼ tsp.Salt 1 oz. Unflavored Gelatin 16 oz.milk 6 Eggs. separated ½ Tbsp.Orange juice ½ Tbsp.orange rind,grated ½ Tbsp. vanilla 3lb. Cream cheese,softened Instructions: Combine 8oz. sugar with, gelatin and salt. Beat egg yolks and milk until well blended.add gelatin mixture.cook and gently stir over boiling water until gelatin is dissolved.remove from heat. Add orange rind,juice,and vanilla.refrigerate mixture until partially thickened. Beat cream cheese until smooth,then blend in the gelatin mixture.whip egg whites with remaining 8oz sugar until stiff and fold into cream cheese mixture. Place half of the mixture in each of the two graham cracker crumb c lined pan. Refrigerate until chilled. |
I used this recipe before and it is very good,
I hope you try it and like it too. An idea for pairing would be to add a roast beef dinner which would go well with it. Enjoy! ~Elijah 
Topping: Ingredients:
1lb.2oz blueberries 2 ½ tbsp cornstarch ⅛ ounce unflavored gelatin 6 oz. sugar 3.5 oz. water ½ oz orange juice Instructions: Rinse and drain berries.combine blueberries,sugar,cornstarch, 1.5 ounces of water.cook and gently stir over medium heat until thickened. Stir in gelatin,softened in the remaining water until dissolved.remove from heat. Stir in orange juice.allow to cool. |
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HBHS Walkabout
Pics by Caleb |
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This is the first installment of the ANAS (Aidan, Nick, and Solie) adventures.
In this article I’ll be talking about the trip Aidan and I took to see "The Shins".
On Saturday, September 23rd, Aidan and I drove up to Marymoor Park in Renton, Washington to see Day Wave, Foxygen, and The Shins and boy, was it a good show. To start the day, we went to Engine House No. 9 in Tacoma, then we went to Hi-Voltage Records and I bought Hummingbird by Local Natives on vinyl. We then began the trek up to Renton. The venue is actually really cool. There was a single stage that was actually pretty big, and there was grass everywhere.
While in line to get into the venue, we were picked out of the line and we were chosen to skip the line and walk right in, making it possible for us to get in the front row the whole show. First, Day Wave played and they were really good, regardless of the singer’s lack of junk in the trunk, but it’s okay, the lead guitarist compensated. They were awesome and I’d love to see them again. After Day Wave, Foxygen played and that’s probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. The singer was high on probably coke, was wearing a jockstrap and left for like 3 minutes while the band just kind of jammed.
Finally, The Shins played. I don’t know where to start. This is probably the funnest band to go see live. The song that resonated with me most is a song called "New Slang". They played it down a lot but it sounded incredible. Another awesome song they played is a song called Phantom Limb, because they allowed crowd participation and it was so, so cool. On the way walking back to my truck, Aidan and I met a cool couple and talked about music for a bit. Then when we arrived at my truck, I realized I left the window down for like 5 hours so that was pretty lit. All in all, it was an incredible experience to share with my best friend.
In this article I’ll be talking about the trip Aidan and I took to see "The Shins".
On Saturday, September 23rd, Aidan and I drove up to Marymoor Park in Renton, Washington to see Day Wave, Foxygen, and The Shins and boy, was it a good show. To start the day, we went to Engine House No. 9 in Tacoma, then we went to Hi-Voltage Records and I bought Hummingbird by Local Natives on vinyl. We then began the trek up to Renton. The venue is actually really cool. There was a single stage that was actually pretty big, and there was grass everywhere.
While in line to get into the venue, we were picked out of the line and we were chosen to skip the line and walk right in, making it possible for us to get in the front row the whole show. First, Day Wave played and they were really good, regardless of the singer’s lack of junk in the trunk, but it’s okay, the lead guitarist compensated. They were awesome and I’d love to see them again. After Day Wave, Foxygen played and that’s probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. The singer was high on probably coke, was wearing a jockstrap and left for like 3 minutes while the band just kind of jammed.
Finally, The Shins played. I don’t know where to start. This is probably the funnest band to go see live. The song that resonated with me most is a song called "New Slang". They played it down a lot but it sounded incredible. Another awesome song they played is a song called Phantom Limb, because they allowed crowd participation and it was so, so cool. On the way walking back to my truck, Aidan and I met a cool couple and talked about music for a bit. Then when we arrived at my truck, I realized I left the window down for like 5 hours so that was pretty lit. All in all, it was an incredible experience to share with my best friend.
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Hall Photos
by Caleb These pictures were taken atHenderson Bay High School upstairs and down stairs. All the art work was done by the students here at this great school. Hopefullly there will be more amazeing pictures and paintings I can post on the school website.
~Caleb |
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Coverage below is from 2016-17 School Year
My Protector
by Aidan
Hair
Angelic, long, auburn, curled tresses falling into natural ringlets,
Infant pictures with light red fuzz,
Senior photos with set, formal curls,
Years pass: family celebrations, momentous occasions and sorrowful times,
Always a red torch in the midst of the crowds.
Stage 4 cancer diagnosis, side effects start, hairbrushes fill with strands,
Cold, bald head refusing pity but working on fierce revival.
Cooking
The smell of cooking in the house is the feeling of being warm and accepted,
A refuge in the storm of life, a place of familiarity.
The happiness and fuzzy feeling of nostalgia coupled with
the blissfulness of a full stomach and satisfaction.
The sizzling, savory aroma of slowly baked meatloaf, perfectly browned,
A flavorful blend of Americana with ground beef, spices, and cornflakes.
Illness
Pain, fever, skin growing pale, personality growing dim,
Questioning, decisions. . . Paramedics arriving. . .Controlled chaos. . .
Hospital rooms with muffled voices,
The incessant beeping of machines standing like overcrowded soldiers,
The relentless click, click, click of multiple IVs,
Plastic bags loudly announcing their biohazard contents.
Protector
These images depict the last guardian left in my life that I look up to,
She has been my defender and supporter through the trials of life,
Annie has been everything that a mother should be,
I am glad to have her to guide my way into adulthood.
Ode to the Capturing of Light
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"Assembled from multiple lines of poems I liked."
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So many memories in one little truck
30 years on this earth Little things that make it worth keeping Pistons pumping Fuel burning Exhaust roaring Mud slinging Late nights Red Bull and marlboros Regretting the next day Just to hear it run again Motor roaring as loud as thunder Tail pipe popping Tires rolling Radio bumping Off the lot in 87 From grandpa to aunt To step mom To me As many memories as a photo album Clunk clunk Something is wrong again Breaking down as if it’s Tony Romo Sounds I don't like New parts More and more money Long shop nights And good times People say it’s not worth it But for me it’s too many memories And i’m not ready to quit By: Chase |
The Man, the Myth, the Legend
by Gavin A foolish samurai warrior lost in time has descended upon us
We have always needed a hero The legend Kurt Eichenwald is here He is strong He is fast He is smart He is the one His only weakness is epilepsy Kurt will not give in to any evildoers insane antics There is one man who has become his arch-nemesis John Rayne Rivello The man who has managed to exploit his weakness Heros always win in the end though John was defeated by the hero He is strong He is fast He is smart He is the one The samurai will vanquish all foes None should ever oppose Kurt The legend now spends his time being a hero in a cartoonish world |
"A New World"
by TYLER
by TYLER
The sun began to rise on the white sands of the beach, glistening like the scales on a fish in daylight. A figure stirred on the sand, groggy from sleep and in pain by the bright sun. This man had no knowledge of the world he was in or how he got here. All he knew is that he was on a beach in front of a forest. The man sat up and looked out across the vast body of water, watching the waves hit the beach, slowly shaping the land with the force of each wave. As the man gets up he looks around, checks his surroundings and makes a note of where things could be useful or not. He looks at himself, then begins dusting off the sand that has collected onto the fabric of his clothing. This man’s name is Steve and he was your average man. He’s about 6 foot and has the build of a fit man. Muscles are easily visible and well pronounced. He is now standing on his two legs which have the same resemblance as his arms, well defined and visible. He looks around and begins walking towards the direction of the forest. He goes up to a tree and begins brutally beating the tree with his clenched fist. After hitting the tree a few times it split and a block popped out in a smaller form of what used to be part of the tree. Steve picked up the block and kept punching trees until he decided that he had gathered enough wood. He doesn’t know exactly what made him want to do it but he decided that it may be necessary. He walks out the forest with many blocks of wood, six stacks in order to be exact, 43 saplings, and 34 apples. He replants all of the saplings and moves out of the forest in hopes of finding some purpose as to why he is here. He walked one mile before entering a desert. It seemed weird that there is a literal line of where there's a change in climates. Walking from a cool and refreshing forest to a hot muggy desert. But at the time it didn’t seem to bother him that much and he went on his merry way. He began to get hungry after a while and looked around for any source of food. He decided he better get out of this desert and search for food. It was about sun high now and there didn’t seem to be any sign of an exit out of the dreaded desert. He kept walking and walking until he saw the border of the desert to a mountainous area. It was starting to get darker and he still hasn’t found any food. He began to climb the lower part of the mountain but stopped after going over a small incline. He saw a light source in the distance in a forest and he thought maybe someone was near that light source who could help him. He began to head towards the light source. Luckily for him it exited the mountainous area and entered a forest with some plains. As soon as he crossed the borderline he heard a groan and the sound of bones clanking against each other. He continued running but looks in the direction of the sound only to find a zombie and a skeleton pursuing him. They are both slow but he won’t be able to continue running at this pace for long and has to rest for a minute. Before he has a chance to rest an arrow hit the tree next to his head. He continued but not the pace of running, more of a speedwalk. He sees that he has almost made it to the light and pushes on. He lost the zombie but the skeleton was still firing arrows. He dares not look back but can see arrows flying right beside him every time one was fired. “For something being dead it’s got incredible accuracy,” he thought to himself. He was focusing on dodging the skeleton’s arrows that he didn’t notice the hole in front of him. His foot slid into it and he tripped, tumbling down a small hill before getting back up and feeling a jolt of pain in his lower back. He turned and saw that he had been hit with an arrow. He looked up and saw the skeleton about to fire another shot before a green creature walked in front of him and took a shot from the skeleton. He looked at the creature and it seemed like a long box with a sad face and 4 legs. It hissed when it got hit and looked towards the skeleton before the skeleton fired another arrow at Steve and missed. The creature began moving towards the skeleton, hissing and jumping, looking like it was going to kill the skeleton. Steve began moving away from both creatures and towards the light again. He could see it through the leaves of the trees and heard an explosion behind him. At last, he made it to the light source which turned out to be a torch on a mountain wall just above a door. He went up to it and checked around to make sure there was nothing that was trying to kill him before he knocked on the door three times. No response. He tried again. No response. It had seemed like no one was home and the door was locked. He tried running into it in hopes of it opening but he just bounced off like a bouncy ball hitting the wall. He presses against the door and it’s cold almost freezing even. He put his ear to the door and could hear the crackling of a fire in a fireplace. He steps back a little bit and heard a snap in the forest behind him. “Who’s there?” He yells. He didn’t get a response other than the rustling of leaves in the wind. In the distance he could hear the groan of a zombie and sounds that has not heard before. Some sounded far others sounded closer. But there was a sound real close which started to worry him, Just behind the trees was the sound of multiple zombies and skeleton sounds as well. He looked for a place to hide but since he was in a field so it was rather hard to do that. So he lied down next to some tall grass and sat there waiting for the mobs to pass. But they never came farther than the house. They sat there waiting for something or perhaps someone. There were a lot of them too, so many that he couldn’t count them. For a split second there was a bright flash and then all of the monsters were flown into the air by an explosion coming from the ground. The explosion took out half of the group while the other half were severely injured. The other group was beginning to get up before arrows started taking them out one by one. In less than a minute the last of the group were killed off. Steve was starting to get up out of the grass before hearing a feminine voice yelling “who’s there.” Steve yelled back, “My name is Steve.” “Why are you here?” she asks. “I was trying to find a place where I could hide from all of these monsters,” he answers. “You a new-body?” she asked. “A what?” “A new-body, someone who has woken up recently and found themselves in a strange place,” she explained. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He stated. He hears a loud click and the metal door swung wide open. “Get inside before any other monsters show up.” He enters the building and is graced with a large room filled with decorations, weapons, and pictures. Torches lit up the walls surrounding the area in light. In the middle of the room was a large table surrounded by three couches. Two on opposite sides of the couch and one on the backside of it. On the walls were pictures and frames that were holding weapons, diamonds, gold, and even what seemed to be a golden apple. There were stairs that led to a second floor. On the other side of the room were a bunch of furnaces and a chest with the words labeled, ‘food’. He saw the crackling of wood then turned to see the fireplace he heard from the outside. He hears steps down a hallway to his left and hears a door open. He looks and sees a figure standing there. The figure was a girl and looked to be a woman in her early 20’s. She was about the same height as him. “So you're new here, huh?” she asked. “Yes that’s correct. Thanks for saving me back there.” He smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. That was only a small group of them.” She stated. Steve’s eyes went wide and his mind was filled with fear. ‘That was only a small group? That’s insane.’ he thought. “Come here, there’s not a lot of time. I'm going to show you some things that will help us and then we can have the time to talk after the sun rises. Do you have any kind of resources on you?” She asked. “Yes I do actually, I grabbed some wood out of the forest to the… I don’t remember, but I have these.” He shows that he has 6 stacks of wood and 34 apples.” He states. “Hmm some basic essentials, but not much that id need other than the food. I almost never have time to gather materials but I manage with what I can grab.” She takes his supplies and brings them to a couple chests and places them in the chest. “Now we don’t have much time, they’ll be back soon and that door isn’t going to last much longer thanks to that TNT I set off.” She says. “Wait that was an explosion?” He questions her. “Let’s not worry about that.” As she finished her statement there was banging at the metal door at the entrance. Hard pounding like hands beating a drum. “Here take these, I want you to stay here and make sure anything that comes down that hallway dies.” He gives him an Iron Sword and a Bow with 128 arrows in arrow quivers. She heads up the stairs and he hears a door slam closed from above. He looks towards the door and readys and arrow onto the bow and places his sword on his back. ‘Anything that comes through that door huh? This’ll be my first time killing anything, i’m glad it’s zombies and skeletons.’ He thinks to himself. The door takes a few more bangs before it cracks and breaks apart under the sheer number of hits it’s taken. The door falls to the ground in pieces as zombies walks through the entrance. He aims the bow at the zombie in front and lets the arrow fly. It was a direct hit. The arrow landed squarely on the center of it’s head and the zombie falls flat on the ground while zombies begin to climb over him. He readies another arrow and fires again and keeps at it for a solid five minutes before he realizes that he’s almost out of arrows. As the horde grew closer from the entrance he had to switch over to his sword. Slashing at them as they got close he took them down swing after swing. Eventually he got pushed back to the stairs where she saw that girl head up to. Wondering if she is doing something important he tried to hold the stairs for the time being. 2 minutes went by before the horde began to push harder towards Steve. He wasn’t able to hold the stairs for very long but he could only hold out for so long. Having had enough a couple of skeletons came in from behind the zombies and fired off a couple of arrows. ‘Okay now i’m not gonna be able to hold this spot any longer.’ He thought to himself With that he went up the stairs and opened the door at the top to see the girl working on some kind of potion. She notices him and tells him to take the potion she had in her hand and to toss it down the stairs. Steve grabs the bottle and makes his way to the door that leads to the stairs. He opens the door but before he has a chance to throw the potion two arrows fly up the stairs and one hits him in his right shoulder and one into his chest. He staggers back a bit before using his left arm’s strength to throw the bottle down the stairs and falling to the ground. As the mobs began moving towards the door the potion shatters on the steps which ignites all of the monsters in a ball of fire. The fire covers the top of the stairs all the way to the bottom. From the top of the stairs the noises of dying skeletons and zombies were music to his eyes as he lays on his back looking at where the arrows hit. The girl rushes over with a potion. “This is going to hurt… a lot, you ready,” she places her hand on one arrow. Steve looks at her and he nods his head gritting his teeth. She pulls it out and he groans and his vision blurs for a few moments before becoming clear again. He looks down and sees that he is bleeding heavily. She places her hand on the next arrow and steve nods again but with less intensity. She pulls it out and he doesn’t make a noise and just blacks out from the pain. While passed out the girl broke a bottle over him and his wounds began to heal. She bandages him up and goes into one of the chest and pulls out a golden apple. She puts it in her pocket and carries steve over to a bed and lays him there, then places the golden apple on a desk next to him as she goes downstairs to see if there were anymore monsters to worry about. The downstairs was clear of monsters and it looks as though the sun was beginning to rise. ‘He did well for someone who’s new to this life.’ she thought to herself. ‘Although I used the last of my useful ingredients to create those potions, we’re gonna have to go scavenge up some more. Once he is back up to full strength i’ll have to show him how things work and everything about this place. He’s got a lot to learn.’
THE END
The GruffaloPerformed by
Shannon's drama class: Logan, Sierra, Kai, Abby, Katie, Lindzy and Kevin. |
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Ultimate Backpack by AbbySchool can be annoying. It really can. Although....For More
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Student Writing for April
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Meet Henri
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Student Artists
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Student Writing submitted in Feb/March |
Nora's Art
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Jacob's Art
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Nature Walk
story by David |
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"Perception
vs Reality" by Bre |
Student Writing submitted in January
The Vandal of Court CStory by Sadler
Read more... |
The Day CareStory by Tara
Read more... |
Existence Within
Story by Libby
Read more... |
PLUStory by Matea
Read more... |
Henderson Holiday AssemblyDecember snow threatened our normal Winter Holiday Assembly but failed to halt the creativity of Henderson performers. Follow this link to performances by Solie, Aidan, Nick and Logan.
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Our October featured poet is Daniel.
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We are looking for Henderson poets, artists and other creators of student projects to share their work. This page could be called Student Expression or Student Voice. Our editorial board will review all submissions. If we publish your work we would like a photo and brief bio to accompany the work. We can help you prepare the biography and take the photo.
Submit student work to pawz@psd401.net |
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