Featured Writer/Artist: Amberly

Amberly only started with the Imaginators this fall, but she has already contributed tons of creative energy to the club! Some of her favorite authors are Alex Hirsch, Jhonen Vasquez, and JK Rowling, and she likes writing fantasy and sci-fi. She’s also a great artist and likes to create short comics and graphic novels. Here are some Amberly’s short pieces created from writing exercises during club meetings, some of which have accompanying doodles! (Keep in mind, sometimes we run out of time, and a few are only the beginnings of stories.)


The Burrito Tree

A long time ago, in an isolated magical forest, there was a wizard gardener. The wizard grew many magical food trees. There were candy trees and pizza trees and almost any kind of tree one could imagine, but he wizard’s favorite was, by far, the mighty burrito tree.

The burrito tree stood taller than any of the other magic trees, and it produced its enchanted burritos all year, though they were a bit cold in the winter. The wizard loved the burrito tree because it was the first magic tree he’d ever grown, and it grew wonderful burritos.

However, as time went on, the burrito tree grew less and less. Its burrito production slowed until one day there were no more burritos.


Speculative Bridge

The bridge hung above a misty abyss. Everything happened on this bridge. Nothing happened on this bridge. The bridge was a portal through time and space; it was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Only the lost could find the bridge. It would take them where they needed to go, forward or backward in time to make their lives right again. The bridge was a savior, a comfort, but no one could stay.

People never remembered the bridge once they’d crossed. It was barely a place of its own, always dedicated to wherever a person was going. If bridges could feel, this would be the loneliest.


Green Dragon Nine

Quinn opened one of the dusty old boxes they’d found while looking through the attic. They weren’t sure what they had been looking for, but it was soon forgotten in favor of the huge stack of old photographs inside the box. One of them particularly stood out — a picture of a huge scaly thing labeled “Green Dragon Nine.”

At first Quinn thought it must be fake, but the photo was much older than any photo-editing software, and the dragon didn’t look like a puppet or a costume.


The Hurricane of Rom-Com Day

On Rom-Com day, citizens are required to stay indoors and watch romantic comedy movies for the day. So perhaps it was a good day for a hurricane to occur, as everyone was already safely indoors. However, it is rather difficult to watch a movie when the power goes out and water is leaking through your windows. Undeterred, the citizens stare at their blank television screens. After all, everyone knows what happened to the last person who disobeyed Rom-Com day.


The Balloon Cult


It was late at night. Cinna gulped as she crept down the path, darting her flashlight around at any noise she heard. There was a distant, indistinct shout. Someone else was around.

Throwing caution to the wind, Cinna broke into a run. She didn’t know where she was trying to go, but she didn’t expect where she ended up.

She stumbled upon a clearing filled with masked people scurrying around a large balloon. What were they doing?




Metal screeched as Tom attempted to eat the horseshoe. It occurred to him that perhaps his friend had meant something else by “horseshoe,” but it was too late to stop now; he’d look like a fool. He glanced at the sky and coughed as an ominous cloud approached. The air quality there was not good.




The octopus wheeled its wheelchair forward, clutching a doughnut in one tentacle and the mystic key of worlds in another. It wasn’t going to miss the hot air balloon. Not this time.



Nathan was a nerd. He was rather proud of this, even though it tended to exasperate those around him. He liked video games, learning, and being indoors at his apartment in New York. What Nathan did not like was the cold. So finding himself alone and lost in the North Pole was not his idea of a good time. And yet, here he was.


Copyright © 2017 by Amberly. All rights reserved.

Paint Color Poetry

This is a super easy writing exercise that works for individual writers or any size group! Grab some of those free paint swatches from a hardware store and write poetry or tiny stories incorporating the names of the paint colors! We did one round where each person wrote their own piece on a single swatch, then we did a collaborative one where everyone wrote only one line at a time, then passed the swatch to the right and continued the new poem in front of them. After we did the exercise as a group the first time, I’ve since just included the leftover swatches in my picture prompts box for anyone to use for free-writing time whenever they want. Here are of our recent “Paint Color Poetry” pieces! The text is typed below each image.




She sang Rockabye Baby while she ate a frosted tulip and some salmon-flavored salmon pink salmon. Briquette took away her salmon, but Briquette’s friend threw a burnt red skateboard at her face, and the friend popped a red gumball in her mouth, and blew a big bubble like a savage.




The pretty orchid lane was where the frogs held frurch — frog church. The sky was a dusky lilac during their meetings. It was always like that. A faint, dusky, lilac haze. The blood that dripped from the flower was of purple essence. I watched a violet eclipse. Mirabella the Fairy killed it. Mirabella wore a perfectly purple dress.




Maggie’s magic is great because it’s Maggie’s magic. She cast a jade spell and changed everyone’s name to Jade. How diabolical. The flowering cactus would try to stop her, but Laurel Wreath, her only true love, could only break the spell with a kiss of true love. Little did she know, Laurel was a tiny leprechaun molester in disguise. He became a molester because he was mad because he didn’t get into an Ivy League college, and will soon seek revenge.




She was unusual, to say the least. Instead of a scarlet red, her blood was a milk paint. The blood was the consistency of heavy cream. I looked at it while I sat a sand fossil. It was seasoned with salt and spiced vinegar. It was gross. The tweed tasted good with the spiced vinegar though. She then jumped into a muddy river because she was too fabulous for da world.


By Moose Angel


Her name was Violet Echo. Her eyes shined in the February frost. She used paint and painted the snow a frosted lilac color. She loved silverberry. She dyed her hair a plum shade color. I think she cast a magic spell on me.


By Twyla Rose


The light fog surrounded the ship. Jamie was awed. It was making him sleepy, the darkness was. It was like a blue lullaby, trying to lull him to sleep. Turns out it was a lullaby, a sea sprite was floating above the water. Like discount Jesus. “Don’t let her come near the captain!” said Parakeet Pete. “She’ll steal the smokey emerald!” (The gem that they’d worked so hard to steal.) “Throw the holly leaf at her!” Jamie cried. Jamie had saved the day.


By Ahmed Rashid


Jimmy prepared for a feast. He picked peaches from the peach tree, got iced melons (which he called melon ice), and built a small boat made of shrimp, the S.S. Shrimp Boat. Then, D. Trump stole the orange delicacies to apply to his skin. He sailed away on the Copper River and ordered the military to burn all Chinese lanterns, and smelled the lovely orange poppy.


By Iris Young


Bob was bashful. His blush was diamond blue. He blushed when he saw Ariel. She looked like a beautiful horizon haze. Also like a bellflower. And Bob was the Neptune to her bellflower horizon haze.


By Iris Young


Gordon Ramsay liked scalloped shells. He flavored them with flamingo and peach. It smelled like a sweet angel. They looked like a coral serenade. But they were as raw as rustic pottery. So he eliminated himself and made a cinnamon stone of life.


By Pennywise


Everyone loves that harbor mist. It’s magical. My beach house is a place we can rendezvous, if you think it’s best to look through a kaleidoscope. Wanna eat my chinese porcelain? My favorite kool-aid is blue tang.




Ginger cream, the tastiest cream. The ginger of cream. The cream of ginger. That’s what he said. By he, I mean Brandy Alexander. Brandy Alexander was a famous strawflower gardener. he had a floral tapestry in his fabulous home. The horizon would glow a dark red as he was watering his gorgeous flowers. Brandy turned ruby red after death.




The rainbow was just perfect. The gays wont’ forgive the homophobes quickly and by that I mean ever. They went into the mysterious Misty Moor. With their gracious glow to lead them through the fog. The fog where loveliest leaves lived. They sat there in their sanctuary, their legs crossed like those of a frog.


By Bill


The pig was colored like a pale orchid. He was basking in the brisk lavender haze. His name flowed off Sam’s mouth like a wild lilac. Sam’s favorite flower was french violet. He smelled like purple grapes. His decomposing body turned imperial purple.




Gene the emoji smiled. He was a little slice of happy emoji. Gene’s personality was super happy. People would describe him as star bright. His twinkle toes made him squeal with delight. Not only did he get the majestic shoes, he also got to get a taste of split pea soup. He loved soup in the winter after knitting his woolen mittens by the fire. The autumn festival, he attended.




The cat wasn’t afraid of the watery blue, just cautious. But he wanted to sky dive under the water. The depths terrified him. He stood next to her, colored blue with fear. He had a symphony of blue surrounding him. While she ate her feelings along with her superstition. Her heart was black as a minecraft block of obsidian.




Smelling the precious nectar of the sea anemone made me feel special, like Romeo, until Romeo and Juliet committed ritual suicide. Ashes of Roses were burned at their funeral. A raffia cream was at the funeral, coloring their faces as to keep them safe after death. The blood that stained their clothes was earth rose. She ate brick dust.


Copyright © 2017 by Moose Angel, Twyla Rose, Ahmed Rashid, Iris Young, Pennywise, Bill, Fatimah Rashid, & Oliver Brexton. All rights reserved.


Writing Exercise

Last club meeting, we did a really neat exercise to help us get to know each other. First, everyone spent a couple of minutes writing a list of things about themselves at the top of a paper. We made sure to include both things we like about ourselves and things we wish we could change, but the main thing was it had to be stuff we were comfortable sharing with the group. Then everyone turned their papers in, and I redistributed them at random. Once everybody had a new paper with a list, they were then to write a short piece, either poetry or prose, using the list to create their main character. We spent about seven minutes on this part. We then read them aloud, and tried guessing who the stories were about! The stories turned out great, and we all became a closer group that night as we learned that all of us are unique and pretty weird. 🙂 I’m so proud of my teens for being themselves and for accepting, supporting, and encouraging each other! Here are a few of our stories, shared here anonymously. Enjoy!


I sit at my school computer playing games when I should probably be working. I look at the clock as the bell rings for next class. I soon go to class holding onto my sketchbook tight. I sit and notice everyone’s chatting, and I’m the only person not talking. I shrug it off. I’m quiet; I can’t help it. I start to draw during class when a girl walks up to me and tries to kiss me. I respond to that by screaming, “It’s the apocalypse!” Then I run out of the school. “I’m a nerd, don’t kiss me!” I say when the girl’s friend asks why I screamed. I soon go home and work on my fan fiction.

Robbie is a fan-girl. A “Supernatural” fan-girl, to be precise. Cas was her life, as was Gabriel. Anime and music are also considered her hobbies. The nerdy emo best describes Robbie. An introvert and a loner, she draws gay art which is fabulous. It’s perfect, as Robbie is bisexual herself. The only big secret in Robbie’s life is that she is not a human. She is a moose. She walks without a pack, scrounging for herself. But she forgot to wear orange, so she was shot by a hunter and eaten, and her fur was taken and used as a coat. So in the end, she was just food.

Once there was a super awesome atheist feminist theater nerd named Pablo. Pablo loved candy and soda and desserts. He loved sweets so much, he didn’t even care about his horrible dental health. But there was one thing Pablo loved even more than sweets, and that was EQUALITY! Pablo used all his free time outside of theater and eating candy to create memes to fight inequality. Also, he didn’t think Harry Potter was all that great.

Logan sits in the hallway next to many books stacked on top of each other. He listens to the quiet, staring at the blank wall, totally lost in his own thoughts. As soon as he becomes aware of his surroundings again, he reaches in the back of his pocket and grabs his phone. After searching through his phone for a few minutes, music begins to play. It is very classical. He sets his phone on his leg as he looks over a the stack of books and grabs the one on top.

I really wish perfection was real. And if it were real, I wish I could have it. But I’m not perfect. My hair is always changing color from blonde to red. So people disagree with my tattoos and others hate than I’m queer. It seems that not everyone likes me, but that’s okay because I dislike most people too. I’m bad with money and an expert procrastinator. Sometimes I seem to be the opposite of whatever “perfection” is. But despite what flaws I have, I’m fine with me. I’m smart. And because I’m smart, I know that the flaws don’t define me. There are a hundred different things about me that are way more interesting than my flaws. So screw perfection.


Copyright © 2017 by Imaginators Teen Creative Writing Club. All rights reserved.

Featured Writer: Ahmed Rashid

These are some Ahmed’s short pieces created from writing exercises during club meetings. Ahmed has been with the Imaginators since our very first meeting in May of 2016! Some of his favorite authors are Rick Riordan and Jeff Kinney, and he most likes to write comics and fantasy fiction. Ahmed has a sharp wit, and his stories often contain very clever dark humor and surprise endings. He never fails to make us laugh! 🙂


El Burrito Tree

In the kingdom of Burritoland, there lived a greedy king. His name was King Burrito VI. He always taxed the people of Burritoland 10 tortillas a week, the equivalent of $100 a week. One day, a wizard known as El Taco Mago summoned a demonic beast know as an “American” to eat the guards. El Taco Mago quickly learned about the greedy king, so he created a magical tree, El Burrito, and gave it to the king. The king was so happy he died of happiness, then El Taco Mago became the strongest king ever, summoning humans to fight wars by eating the enemies and creating burrito trees for allies.


Golf Course Macabre

“Hello sports fans! Welcome to our third annual Macabre Golf! I’m your host, Hades, and I’m receiving notice that round one starts now! Thanatos, what’s going on in the course?”

“Hey Hades! Our first two contestants, I don’t know who they are but… oh, here they come now. The announcer will now announce the names now!”

“On this corner, stands the man deadlier than a tiger, scarier than the woods, give it up for Tiger Woods!!!”

*Applause and yelling*

“On that end is the man who brings pain to his enemies, then puts them in his stew, cry for Payne Stewart!!!”


“Okay, let the battle begin!”

*More applause*

“Woods sprints like a cheetah to the golf cart! He grabs a putter. Looks like he’s gonna put Stewart in his rightful place, am I right?”


“Okay then, uhh, Stewart took a really hot ladle from his pocket. How it fit, I’m not sure. He’s gonna hit the cart’s engine, uh-oh, ahhh!”

*Crowd gasps*

“Well, the cart blew up, and now they’re both dead. And that’s the game folks!”



A Horror Story

A woman is scared out of her mind. She cannot watch the horror in front of her eyes, but she wants to. She covers her eyes with her hands hoping that when she opens her eyes, the monstrosity will be gone, but she can’t look away, so her eyes leak through her hands, then her mouth, and she cries invisible tears of terror. Then the monster changed into a cute little girl who looked like Ellen DeGeneres. The weird smile on her face didn’t look too welcome, and the woman thought the girl wasn’t too generous, so, as a way to defend herself, she killed the little Ellen-demon and made her into a cake and ate the cake. it tasted like the flowers behind Ellencifur, which the woman didn’t know, so she just imagined it to taste like vanilla, but it didn’t taste like it. In fact, it tasted so bad, that the woman died with a disgusted face. Her last words were, “Nighty-night Ellen!”


National No-Internet Day

National No-Internet Day was the nation’s least favorite holiday. Last year, the least-appreciated president, Dlanod Pmurt, decided that the country spent too much energy on computers every day, so now no one is allowed to activate computers or cellular devices. If anyone activates it, SWAT people would break through their closets and put the person in jail for a week with no internet. A man by the name of Carl wasn’t too sad about the situation. He could handle it. he decided to go to the great outdoors in his back yard and play with a flying disc by himself all day. He found a weird thing hanging on a tree. It was a rainbow beehive. He decided to see what it was. When he touched it, all the bees dispersed into the air away from his house leaving him with a hive of cupcake-flavored honey. Later that day, people were yelling, “The uni-bees! They’re coming!” He turned on his hand-powered radio. The radio said, “Breaking news! The rare unicorn-bee storm is sweeping the nation. The only way to figure out how to defeat them is… FOUND ON THE INTERNET. I guess we’re all doomed! If only someone could save us! Carl decided to look up how to stop them. He turned on his flip phone and SWAT members broke out of his fridge. “It’s No-Internet Day!” they said. “You’re going to jail!” Carl said, “I can’t use computer monitors and touchscreen phones. Flip phones don’t count!” “Touché,” said SWAT. “I guess we’ll leave you alone.” The SWAT team left. Carl discovered that the way to stop the uni-bees was with a picture so sad that it will overpower happiness, so he ran over a cute cat with his bike and raised it to the heavens. It was so sad, the uni-bees flew to the cat and sacrificed themselves to bring the cat back to life. The bees were gone, and everyone was happy, and the cat pranced away, but little did the nation know that the cat absorbed the evil-happy powers of the uni-bees and wanted revenge on Carl for killing him. TO BE CONTINUED…


The Mystical Butterman

John was a normal, generic, middle-aged man, until the day he went to the zoo. He was looking into the river of eels and alligators when suddenly all he could see was black and white. He was so confused, his legs couldn’t comprehend and went into anaphylactic  shock. He woke up in the hospital and was confused as to why he was there. The nurses told him to lay on the bed or he might die. After the nurses left, he saw a bright orange butterfly. He tried to get up, but his legs were still dead, so he got on a wheelchair and flew out the window. The magical butterfly was in his hands, and upon its first touch, he was healed , had butterfly wings, and could see in color! He had transformed in the Mystical Butterman! He daydreamed his future savings of random cities, hovering there like a hovering butter-duck. A notorious dairy farmer saw him, so he pulled out his shotgun, shot John, and turned him into butter. The butter tasted so good, he became a trillionaire, so John may have not saved random cities, but he made some random person happy, so he truly was a hero after all.


Oh Tea and Crumpets

“Hey Grandpa, why did you give up your hopes and dreams of becoming an astronaut to become a tea shop owner with the slogan OH TEA AND CRUMPETS?”

“It’s a long story, laddie. Sit down, and I’ll tell you. When I was a schoolboy in my freshman year of high school, we wrote down a survey of future careers we wanted based on what classes we excelled in. Being the straight D student I was, I had a ton of choices to choose from including McDonald’s employee, janitor, and other jobs that are looked down upon. I didn’t want those silly, low-paying jobs. I read on and found the most complicated job of shop owner. Back then, my best friend’s friend’s friend’s father struggled in school and grew up to support his family with his bakery because of his passion for cupcakes. Well, I sure loved flavored water and fatty pieces of bread! I decided then and there that I wanted to open a tea shop! I worked hard and –“

“If you worked hard, why didn’t you get straight A’s?”

“Because I skipped school every day to practice making tea and crumpets!”

“That’s dumb.”

“Well, if you loved tea and crumpets that much, you would have skipped school every day too!”


Copyright © 2017 by Ahmed Rashid. All rights reserved.

“Autumn” by Amberly

Autumn is the greatest time of the year.
With pumpkin-flavored everything, and colors
painting the trees beautiful orange and red,
What is not to love?
Cold weather and wind means everyone is bundling up
In jackets and sweaters and scarves
Soon it will be Halloween, and ghosts will be lurking around every corner
Spooking and scaring in their annual game
And warm apple cider for when we get cold
Who among us, now,
Could find a single thing not to love about this wonderful season?

Copyright © 2017 by Amberly. All rights reserved.

More Eclipse Poetry!

Solar Eclipse by Lea

These are some other untitled poems and short pieces that came out of our writing exercises from last week’s club meeting! The drawing above is “Solar Eclipse” by Lea. 🙂

Shadows across the moon
a feather light caress
before parting
never to touch again
-Angela Solon

Dark, yet still light at the same time
Strange, yet beautiful
-Twyla Rose

Don’t stare
The shadow is deceptive
The sun is still bright enough to blind
-Angie Tonucci

I see an eclipse
The moon and sun working together
Creating something beautiful
-Elizabeth Trader.

The sun is blocked out.
The world is in shadow.
It is peaceful, dark, and quiet.

The eclipse reminds me
of our constant motion
stars, planets, and moons
a never-ending dance
-Angie Tonucci

Copyright © 2017 by Amberly, Angela Solon, Angie Tonucci, Elizabeth Trader, Lea, & Twyla Rose. All rights reserved.

Collaborative Poetry

This week at writing club, we wrote some poetry together! In an effort to come up with some things to print in our August library bulletin, the theme was ECLIPSES, in honor of Eclipse Day coming up on August 21! This is a super easy group writing exercise that often creates really fun and unique writing pieces. Each member of your group just needs a sheet of paper and a pen. Pick a theme or word to get everyone started. (We broadened our theme to include anything related to space, the sun or moon, planets, etc.) Everyone takes about thirty seconds to write the first line of a poem. Then everyone passes their paper to the left and continues the poem on the new sheet in front of them. Continue this until you pass as many times as there are people in the group, making sure to let everyone know when it’s the last pass so they can wrap up the poem with an ending. Some might be silly or not make much sense, but sometimes you get a few truly beautiful gems! Either way, it’s a great brain work-out to come up with short lines quickly and to build on what others have started! Here are our poems from this week!

Space is a being that has been feared, loved, and explored.
It never quits expanding, for it must make more.
Farther and farther, longer and longer,
One could never explore it all.
Endless energy passes through every bit of matter.
And endless energy passes through all its inhabitants.
And endless energy passes through all its types of energy as well.
Energy and matter pass through the whole galaxy.
But is there an end in it, in which the energy disappears?
Perhaps we shall never know, but wondering is magical.

This huge space, we’re so small.
And yet we can make actions so big.
Though sometimes the smallest actions are the biggest of all.
And the smallest of things can change it all.
Never discovering it all, forever wondering.
But for all we know, our space could contain infinite existence.
Though this may be true, we may never know why.
All we know is we can find it if we try.

Bright stars
Silver night
Sky turn black as we near twilight
Moon becomes a crescent as we approach nighttime
Straining eyes for a sliver of light
Searching for stars, but Venus is the first to peek between the curtain
Beautiful, ethereal, fiery goddess
So lovely, yet so dangerous
All seems dark, but there is light

The universe is all so vast, ever expanding.
Billions of stars, planets, asteroids… dancing, crashing, flying.
Dancing across the cosmos in an endless streaming ballet.
Lucky for them, I know not how to dance, yet I can try.
Dreaming and leaping and dancing, through the galaxy I fly.
I hope one day I shall be able to sway with the stars and jig with the asteroids.
But the only way I could do that is if I was an interstellar object, and I’m not.
So I should wish upon a star.
I may never be able to do these achievements, but the universe is still big.

Spirits staring down at me.
With large, gassy, fiery, star-like eyes.
I am enveloped in light, I’ve never felt more seen.
I am intimidated; eye contact is uncomfortable.
The universe’s eyes bore through me.
Energy of this being takes control of me.
It is like a doctor’s visit, being poked and prodded and examined.
But this examiner is good, for once the stars think I’m cool to hang with them.

In an infinite universe, you are only a small piece of the puzzle.
Only when it’s put together can the big picture be seen.
One by one, over the years, fitting together.
It’s so close to being finished, but not close enough.
If only we could speed up the process.
Or we could patiently wait for the universe to do it on its own.
Maybe there are lost pieces stuck in oblivion.
The piece that is me seems insignificant, yet without it the puzzle would be incomplete.

Perpetually celestial.
Could there be beings above, watching us?
Possibly the galaxy’s guardian angels?
Is there a god who chooses our fates?
I stare at the stars and wonder
Of all the things that have ever existed
And all the things still yet to be
How did I end up here and now?
How could this vast universe have created me?
Forever questions
I suppose we will never know

Oh beautiful space (or ugly… I have never seen space)
But maybe aliens have (or not)
Maybe they have done amazing things (or maybe they’re dumb)
Or maybe their conspiring against the humans—US.
Or maybe they are helping us.
Maybe they are not so bad (or good)
Maybe they just want to learn (or maybe they don’t even care)
Sometimes I wish they would take me away on space vacation.
Yet somehow when I wish for them the most, they never seem to be there.
Oh beings of space, take me away from here!
(Or don’t, I don’t really care.)

Copyright © 2017 by Ahmed Rashid, Amberly, Angela Solon, Angie Tonucci, Elizabeth Trader, Fatima Rashid, Iris Young, Lea, & Twyla Rose. All rights reserved.

Collaborative Stories

At Imaginators Teen Creative Writing Club, we LOVE working on writing exercises and collaborating on fun, silly stories! A few weeks ago, we did a simple exercise using only pens and scrap paper. This works well for a group size of 5-8 people, and it’s a great warm-up to get those creative juices flowing. Everyone starts with a sheet of paper and a pen. (If writing prompts are needed, you can have each person draw a word or two from a prepared box or use story cubes.) Have each person write one sentence at the top of their paper to start a story. When finished, everyone simply passes their paper to the right, and adds a sentence to the new story in front of them! Play continues around the circle until you decide you’re ready to add the endings, usually 8-10 passes, but you can go on as long as you want! Here are some of our stories from our last collaboration.

“Once there was a super friendly safari burrito that loved fried chicken. Its favorite type of fried chicken was Mexican KFC. One day the Mexican KFC was closed. This caused the safari burrito to become unfriendly. The safari burrito barged into the company’s kitchen and demanded some chicken. He grabbed Colonel Sanders and held him at gunpoint. The Colonel demanded to be released, but the safari burrito would have none of it. It was a question of honor. And of chicken. At that moment two tacos walked in and the burrito was so surprised, he jumped and dropped his gun. He was so enamored by one of the tacos, that he fell in love. The safari burrito forgot all about his chicken, and he married the girl taco, and they lived happily ever after.”

“The courtroom was silent. Everyone in the jury box was focused on the man on the witness stand. He looked weary. The prosecutor asked again, ‘How did you kill him?’ After a pause, the man said, ‘A paintbrush.’ Looks of shock appeared on everyone in the room. One lady, a tall, elegant woman in a purple hat, fainted onto the floor. The man came up to her and painted her face with a burrito. But the jury hated burritos, so they immediately gave the man the death penalty: hanging with a noose made of toenails. The man begged and begged not to die. All he wanted to do was express his artistic views. He looked up with regret. ‘It was a mistake,’ he said. ‘A mistake?!’ the judge cried, outraged. ‘There are no mistakes in art! Only happy accidents.'”

“There are lots of times when it would be bad for your zipper to go crazy. But the worst time is probably at your Great Aunt Mildred’s funeral. When the zipper broke, its remains zoomed in the air and flew into Great Aunt Mildred’s coffin. Suddenly, we heard a cough from the coffin. Great Aunt Mildred slowly rose up and faced me. The whole funeral was chaos, and I got trampled and was left groaning on the floor. Great Aunt Mildred’s gnarled and crooked finger stretched accusingly toward me. ‘X…Y…Z…’ she groaned. My eyes wide with horror, I looked slowly from Great Aunt Mildred’s frozen stare to my pants. Down went my zipper, then up, then down again. It had gone berserk, just like Great Aunt Mildred!”

“A hairy banana lived on his beautiful home, an asteroid. But one day, it started hurtling toward the earth and the heat singed his hair. As the surface of the asteroid heated up, he wondered if he ought to peel himself. But he decided his thick, hairy peel would protect him from the flames. ‘Weeeeeeee!’ he shouted as the asteroid broke through the clouds. Before he landed, he saw a friendly burrito eating fried chicken. But the chicken exploded. The hairy banana was amazed, but scared, but mostly amazed at the fried chicken exploding. He wished he was a beautiful exploding specimen of edible material! The hairy banana crashed down to the land, yet he was alive thanks to his banana peel armor.”

“Nightmare” by Isabelle Nizzio

I stand alone under dreary showers
The last thing I remember was pain
I will wait until the late hours
Though I know there will be nothing to gain
This is the end. What is after this?
I believe I do not know much.
I suppose it will be nothing but black abyss
With not even the memory of a touch

The ones I love are still in my head
Their voices flow through my mind
I hope there will be something else instead
To remind me of what I could never find
Only the reminder will keep me alive
I only wish I could go home
It is the thing for which I strive
Though I am completely alone

I’m only my own and gasping for air.
All I want is for this to end.
To return to the way I used to be without a care,
To learn to trust and find a friend
I stand alone and fully unarmed
Is this just a dream? I must be mistaken.
I am still alone. I am afraid of being harmed.
I sit up. In the middle of the night, I awaken.


Copyright © 2017 by Isabelle Nizzio. All rights reserved.