Meilin Scott
As he took in the view from the twentieth floor, the lights went out all over the city. It was during the mandated time when all the apartment towers and businesses were stripped of light. They were told it was to conserve energy and preserve the
environment, but Dave had never seen the kind of environment everyone was trying to protect. He turned away from the balcony, shivering, and decided to go back to his apartment. The elevator was not operating this late at night. He would have to run down
twenty flights of cold metal stairs.
Finally, Dave arrived at his door, wiped away his sweat and went inside. He collapsed at his rickety white dining table scrapped from college. There had been another flood that month, which by no surprise, reached his first-floor apartment. There were still cockroaches scrambling out of their water-logged homes. His shirt smelled of mold.
It was normal for a young person to buy a low-level apartment. That was the only affordable option, albeit a dangerous one. Real estate agents tried to play down the fact that every month, gushes of brown water would slosh against doors and windows. Dave kept a bucket in every room.
Dave sat at his rare wooden table, wondering what the skyline would look like aglow. The government had just started implementing the new regulations when he was about five years old. His parents would tell him stories about how nice it was to sit back in a chair after sunset, turn on a lamp, and read. It was so dark now that he could not see the creases in his palms.
Once, when Dave was in middle school, he got caught carrying a plastic water bottle and bag. They were being reused, but still, he got some nasty looks on his way into the lunchroom. “Is that your lunch?” Sheila sneered. “You’re harming the environment. Did you know that every day, marine animals choke on plastic like that? It swirls around in the ocean in a plastic soup, and those poor animals are forced to live in it.” Everyone at the table turned to him and his plastic. He quickly balled up the bag and stuffed his water bottle under his hoodie. He ran outside without permission to the basketball courts, missing the Environmental Science lesson on plastic pollution. Anytime someone is seen using the obsolete single-use plastics, they are ridiculed and shamed. The world made plastics the enemy. In this defective culture, people pointed fingers at the plastic, not their grandparents.
Dave stood up and walked to the other room with his mattress on the floor. He lay awake, staring at his thirteen-year-old chubby face, in his Youth Environmental Conservation League uniform. Society prodded every kid to join, and his parents were proud supporters. He knew it was important, but he couldn’t help feeling they were too late, and they missed the point. What good is it when all the natural beauty left is on a screen?
Finally, Dave arrived at his door, wiped away his sweat and went inside. He collapsed at his rickety white dining table scrapped from college. There had been another flood that month, which by no surprise, reached his first-floor apartment. There were still cockroaches scrambling out of their water-logged homes. His shirt smelled of mold.
It was normal for a young person to buy a low-level apartment. That was the only affordable option, albeit a dangerous one. Real estate agents tried to play down the fact that every month, gushes of brown water would slosh against doors and windows. Dave kept a bucket in every room.
Dave sat at his rare wooden table, wondering what the skyline would look like aglow. The government had just started implementing the new regulations when he was about five years old. His parents would tell him stories about how nice it was to sit back in a chair after sunset, turn on a lamp, and read. It was so dark now that he could not see the creases in his palms.
Once, when Dave was in middle school, he got caught carrying a plastic water bottle and bag. They were being reused, but still, he got some nasty looks on his way into the lunchroom. “Is that your lunch?” Sheila sneered. “You’re harming the environment. Did you know that every day, marine animals choke on plastic like that? It swirls around in the ocean in a plastic soup, and those poor animals are forced to live in it.” Everyone at the table turned to him and his plastic. He quickly balled up the bag and stuffed his water bottle under his hoodie. He ran outside without permission to the basketball courts, missing the Environmental Science lesson on plastic pollution. Anytime someone is seen using the obsolete single-use plastics, they are ridiculed and shamed. The world made plastics the enemy. In this defective culture, people pointed fingers at the plastic, not their grandparents.
Dave stood up and walked to the other room with his mattress on the floor. He lay awake, staring at his thirteen-year-old chubby face, in his Youth Environmental Conservation League uniform. Society prodded every kid to join, and his parents were proud supporters. He knew it was important, but he couldn’t help feeling they were too late, and they missed the point. What good is it when all the natural beauty left is on a screen?
“The Wall”
Arona Vashon
People couldn’t wait ‘till it came to a fall
And when it did, the people cheered
And when it did, Communist leaders sneered
After World War II
It all began with ideas to cease
The crossing of people coming from the East
When the ideas turned to action, up came the border
That threatened this new-found peace
A wall built to divide
Was a partition to separate free countries
From the Soviet Union that left few to survive
East Berlin
A territory without freedom, joy, or color
Where anyone who tried to escape
Was instantly marked a traitor.
Mercy was a word unknown,
Families torn apart,
The wall would not stand for long
It was time to expose the dark
As world leaders went ‘round and ‘round,
Reagan said tear that wall down!
Emotions were on the rise
Tears fell from their eyes.
With each crack of the concrete,
Separated families were about to meet
When the graffiti-layered rock hit the ground
The whole world stood still to hear the sound
Cries of freedom
Cries of grief
For those who tried to cross a nation once divided,
Now held hands around the rubble
And stood in disbelief
Checkpoint Charlie
The most famous way for passage
Now lay lifeless beside the Allied Museum in Berlin
A message
To let it never happen again.