Prayer Flags by Cade Hawks

I took this photo of a flag pole with prayer flags attached in my backyard.

Untitled by Lara Hershberger

My kitty Mo just wanted to say hi.

In the Sights by Dylan Spence

This is a picture of a great horned owl taken on a Nikon D5100.

Getting Worked by Reed Hutton

This is a photo I took of my brother, Ryan, competing in the Green River Freestyle Kayaking Rodeo in Green River, Wy two years ago.

Grand Sunset by Cade Hawks

This photo was taken a couple weeks ago of the Grand Teton using a Lumix fz100.

Victory by Liz Johnson

This photo was taken on a hike last year during the end of the school year field trip to SLC.

The Tetons by Marisol Hernandez

This picture reminds me of how lucky I am to live in a place where there is a great view.

The Jedi by Lara Hershberger

This was taken in September two years ago on a school camping trip.

Self Reflection by Dylan Spence

This is just a photo of a reflection I took on my Nikon D5100.

Infinity by Reed Hutton

This is a picture of my brother playing with a flashlight, while I used a tripod and long shutter speed to get the desired effect.

First Snow by Liz Johnson

I took this photo with my phone the first time it snowed this year.

Untitled by Marisol Hernandez

This is a picture that was taken on a horseback riding trip with my family.

Summer Time by Cade Hawks

This photo was taken last summer when my friends and I were obsessed with jumping on the trampoline and learning new tricks.

Motley Duo By Lara Hershberger

This photo is from a trip to Costa Rica last year during a school trip. These two were rescues.

Tram Tower in Black and White by Dylan Spence

Tram tower at Teton Village, taken on my Nikon D5100.

DIRTY DISHES by Fuller Ross, Photo by Marisol Hernandez

            Boxes of Chinese food and empty beer cans surrounded Sean’s apartment for another night. The TV was over sized for the small apartment. It served as an oasis of light in the otherwise dark and glum room. The culprit was snoring lightly, surrounded by the mess, unconscious on the black futon. His dress shirt was lightly unbuttoned and the remains of not shaving for two days covered his face.

            Sean woke up the next morning; slowly he sat up, turned off the TV and went

to shower. Like the kitchen, the bathroom was a mess, toothpaste sat in the sink with no cap on it and towels sprawled the floor, and the toilet seat remained up. Sean stepped through this mess without picking anything up. The hot water covered his body, Sean disregarding soap, shampoo, and conditioner got out. He got dressed and looked in the fridge. Nothing remained but a couple bud lights and a carton of eggs that only contained broken shells. No breakfast. Instead he would find the small tin of Folgers instant coffee, then he would microwave some water and that was how Sean was surviving. The apartment looked as if a lazy college student lived here, but the fact of the matter was Sean was not lazy. He was very successful and before three weeks ago he had lived in a large Tudor home in North Hills Pennsylvania. He would drive into his office at the old U.S. Steel building and sit in his oversized office that no executive needed. It was this excess that made Janie leave him, the unneeded surplus that they had accumulated. Of course the kids sided with her, seeing him as selfish. What they didn’t realize was that he was the reason why they could go to private school, why they could do go to the country club every summer. They wouldn’t have that without him, they were nothing and his ex was nothing. Sure she went to college, but what would she do with her English degree, with no masters. What could she do? These thoughts would race through his mind. He instantly pushed that out of his mind as he got into his 2012 Hyundai Azzera, the car that his wife told him not to get. It was too dangerous and wasn’t big enough for their family. This was a distant thought as the engine roared to life. He put it in gear and left. This mindless drive that was so new to him but so old. The calls from the school and his wife were absent. No longer was it “pick up milk on the way home from work”. If he wanted to he would go to the bar he would go on a road trip this was the new life.

            “Here you go sir”, said the parking attendant at the parking garage, interrupting Sean’s thoughts.

            “Ok”, Sean responded like someone who had insomnia would. He parked his car in the same place as he always did. Repetition was his life.  He walked into the building seeing the various Christmas decorations that had been up for a month since their actual purpose had been set. This wasn’t so bad but more annoying, as he would see everyone move around in the past. Christmas was over it was done, he almost wanted to yell at everyone to move on. But why should Sean care? He was fine. The day passed by slowly and countless emails were sent, and received, a few were from his son James indoor soccer team, were soon deleted. Passed by and forgotten. This had become his life a constant scroll through email after email, repeated day after day. His old life would eventually marked and would soon be deleted

            Finally he was done, another boring day that left him feeling empty. Sure, it made Sean a ton of money but what was it all for. Now he could go to Rivers Casino, the new “ugly” building as his ex wife would put it, where people who were desperate went to spend countless hours. It was not glamorous it was not like Las Vegas.

            The Duquesne Club sat to his right, the Gentleman’s club that turned a 1,800-dollar annual fee, into a nap place, a small price to pay, to gain a new look, a new group of friends. Sean strolled into the club, and looked for the receptionist. He registered as quickly as possible as the man finished up the paper work Sean looked in at the new green and brown leather couch’s that surrounded the room.  Old men were scattered reading the gazette, while the young men awkwardly looked about, they had probably never worked a day in their lives. Sean was soon admitted and given an account feeling uncomfortable Sean sank down into an isolated chair grabbed a paper ordered a scotch and read. He was still on his edge that a text or call would come in telling him to buy turkey for lunches. Soon the realization that he would no longer be doing this set in and he relaxed closed his eyes and dozed off.

            Suddenly his blackberry buzzed, and knocked Sean out of his base. The caller ID read, “Home”. This was another part of his old life. He pressed ignore, guessing that it was his wife telling him that they had a meeting with attorney this week. He knew this already and went back to his lounging time.

            After a dinner that contained the $65 dollar duck and a $22 dollar cocktail, Sean moved back to his car. As he entered and was looking out the rear window he saw a white ball hidden in the back seat. Sean disregarded this forgotten item and moved on making it back to his apartment. As he walked in he pressed the message button on the newly acquired phone that still had the price tag. A quiet voice was on the phone.

            “Hey dad, this is James”. I don’t know if you remembered but you were supposed to pick me up from school today and take me to soccer.  Uh I bet you were busy with work. Call me back when you have the time.” James stuttered, there was a short silence.

            Sean could hear Janie ask for the phone, “James go to your room and get ready for bed. Thank you.” It turned to a low growl instantly, “Sean, what do you think you are doing, just because you don’t live here you are part of this family, and so help me if I get another call from the school of James crying because he has no ride and his dad forgot him I will make sure you never see them again.” She regained her breath, “We need to talk, actually I have nothing more to say to you need to talk to James it is him you disrespected, I just hope you can prioritize your time better if you are given this chance. Goodbye Sean”.  The sound of the phone angrily being thrown to the receiver was echoed through the phone, then nothing.

            Sean looked at his blackberry a couple of work emails and another dumb soccer update. He slowly pressed in the keypad and redialed the number. Then pressed call.

            Bring, bring, bring, bring… bring. “Hello, answered Janie” Sean stood there motionless, “Hello,” Janie repeated.

            Suddenly, Sean ended the call and through the phone back to the couch. Turned his head looked back at the sink and the huge pile of dishes, jerked away and turned on the T.V. letting the late nights drone on. 

SKINNY FEET by Hanna Todd, Photo by Liz Johnson

            I threw my bag into the wall and kicked off my shoes. Staring down at the phone in my hand, I deleted the text I received just before coming through the door. I held back stinging tears and let my hair hang in front of in my face. Shuffling across the gray stained, carpeted floor, I passed through the hallway down into my room.

            I quietly shut the door. I turned around and headed towards my closet, sifting my pink cold hands through the garments that colorfully hung on wire hangers. I slipped a finger into each collar of ever shirt, flipping the tag so that I could scan the number sewn into it. L,L,L, an occasional M.  Crouching down, I checked the size of each shoe, the brown Uggs, Nikies and beaten up Converse; all 9’s, some of the shoes torn and stretched by the size of my feet.

            No longer could I hold the tears back, they fell towards earth, falling on my jeans, creating a spattered, wet design across the stitches. Laying on my back, tendrils of hair strewn about my face, I let my chest heave with every silent sob, the tears still coming and blurring my vision. I swept my hands over my stomach, felt each damning roll of skin that made me feel such pain. My hands drifted to my sides, my hips, scouring for anything reminiscent to an hourglass figure. I couldn’t even feel bone; I let my hands fall to the floor.

            “I’ve tried… I’ve tried so hard…” I whisper, close my eyes and rejoice in the darkness.

            I was never popular. I wasn’t the person that every person craved attention from. I never wanted to be anyways, but the doesn’t make up for the things I am. I am fat, and that makes me unattractive, shunned, a freak. And no matter what I try, I will never be part of the social norm. Every other girl is thin, or at least thinner than I am, and they mock me for being this way. If I eat the smallest salad, or a power bar the size of my pinky finger, I can hear their taunts from behind. “God she’s eating again?” “How can she live with herself being such a pig?” “She’s like a beached whale.”

            I remember when I was young, I was always a big kid. Once, when it was recess, I was in line for the teeter-totter, and when it finally got to be my turn, a teacher held me back and said, “This is only for little kids. You’re too big.” At the time I was the youngest in my class.

            Nowadays I sit alone and try to hide myself from the others. Usually I get through the days by excusing myself from lunch or other social gatherings to work on homework. But it’s during the periods between classes, when I can feel their eyes on my back, hear their whispers whispering in my ears clearer than ever. I never feel safe here.

I was picking at my salad during lunch, alone at the end of a table. I had my earphones jammed in my ears so I could drown out the noise from the lunchroom. I wish I had noticed what was going on around me, but then all I was focused on was the slimy spinach skewered on my fork.  It happened so fast, that I, at first, didn’t know what was going on. Blue slurry dripped down my head, drenching my hair, running down my nose. I sat there with my jaw hanging open my hands held out in front of me. Slowly I turned my head and saw two guys I didn’t even know choking on laughter. I felt the tears well up, and I closed my eyes to hold them back. I jerked out of my seat, earphones falling out and ran to the bathroom. I heard the guys call after me, “Why don’t you wash yourself in the toilet, then you’ll smell like the pig you are”. No one ran after me.

Later that day I crept home, hair still sticky and blue tinged. Mom wasn’t home, so I didn’t have to deal with a confrontation. Running into the bathroom I stripped myself and flung myself into the shower. Turning the water up high, I watched my pale skin turn pink to red, but I liked it. Liked not having to feel something other than sorrow. I looked down at the drain between my feet, the water mixing with blue. I looked at my feet, wide and ugly, veins popping out beneath the surface of my skin. That whole time in the shower I thought about how ugly they were, how ugly I was. I didn’t realize I was crying until I got out and saw that my eyes were red in the mirror.

I pressed my fingers into my face, cheeks molding in the space between them. I frowned, sighed, and closed my eyes. When I opened them, they landed on a red toothbrush that lay next to the sink. The possibility of me turning away from what I was going to do next was zero.

            Fingers quivering, mouth open, I forced the red handle into the back of my throat. My eyes widened and in a second, I was bent over, head in the toilet. Although it hurt so much, I did it again and again until there was nothing left in my stomach. Heaving, gulping in air, I compared my life to how I was at that moment. I saw nothing different. It seemed like I always had my head in a toilet.

TOOLBOX by Jack Graig-Tiso, Photo by Dylan Spence

            It was one of those places that people don’t remember, a small town with one gas station, and then the small house a few miles out of town. It was just the beginning of winter, but this part of Wyoming already had more snow than Kevin ever would have wanted. He was driving a Fed Ex truck. They aren’t the best in snow and he didn’t go faster than 30 even though the speed limit was 55. There was a young man that wanted five packages delivered to this remote place, but that wasn’t what Kevin was thinking about. He was thinking of home where he could sit on his couch and watch TV. As Kevin pulled up, he saw an a-frame cabin with an extension on the side, making it a real size house. It wasn’t the largest place, but it was accompanied by a large barn right next to it. Kevin was unprepared for the new weather and his sneakers and jeans were not going to keep him warm. He made his way to the back of the truck and started to unpack the packages and carry them to the house. The temperature was dropping as the sun started to get lower to the horizon and it was clear that Kevin was getting cold, he would periodically stop to blow on his purple figures. After he had carried the last of the boxes to the house, he assumed the house was empty, and in fact it was. He joyously headed back relieved that he could finally start heading home. It wouldn’t work out that way, he wouldn’t get home and whether he knew it or not was a mystery. His first clue was when he looked at his passenger seat and saw the pad for a signature, a signature he didn’t have.

            Kevin replaced the packages into his truck, but by that time his truck had been snowed in, and when he tried to leave, he didn’t move. He spent the next half hour trying to dig out his tires in between brakes in his truck. Little did he know that there was a young man coming to his rescue, this 17-year-old boy was named Jake and, while Kevin was sitting frustrated at his house, he was out enjoying himself hunting. He had snowmobiled out early that morning and was now tracking his kill; he had hit a dear just a few minutes ago. It was easy in this snow since the red blood stood out; he quickly found the dear and gutted it. Then stowing it in the sled behind his snowmobile, he headed back towards his house.

            Jake found Kevin on his hands and knees trying to dig out his tires. He had already done one tire; but he was slow. Jake helped him carry the packages he had coming, but first he signed for them. They headed to the barn next to the house because that’s where Jake wanted them. As they entered the barn, Kevin could see an old truck. He wasn’t surprised, but it did distract him long enough for his eyes to miss an old metal toolbox, because he walked right into it. Although it hurt, he felt an obligation to help pick up the dropped tools. Dropping the box he was carrying, Kevin bent over to try and pick up the tools, but he was stopped. Jake told me him that he would clean up the mess. Kevin observed closely as Jake replaced the tools in the box, he notice that he carefully replaced all the tools back in that toolbox slowly and with purpose. Each piece had its place.

            Kevin was cold and had retreated into his truck to warm up when Jake emerged from the barn; he approached with two shovels, ready to help dig out the truck. Then Kevin left hitting the gas and jerking forward as he headed away. He got about five miles before he was stuck again. It was only five of the fifteen that he needed to reach the nearest town. Even through the thick snow, he could see headlights approaching behind him. It took a few minutes and the light slowly got closer. Kevin was a little disappointed when once again he saw Jake, but he was probably the best person that could have come. Kevin had called his manager to tell him that he was staying there for the night, but he still didn’t know if there was a place to stay. Kevin asked if Jake would take him to the nearest motel, hotel or just anyplace with a room. After considerable though Jake offered to house him and that started their journey together.

            Overnight the United States had been invaded. Through the work of spies infiltrating the military, the northern coast was tricked so that their sensors and other important systems were giving false readings. This allowed a coalition of countries to invade; but that’s another story altogether. Kevin was making a very important decision of what he was going to do. He eventually decided that he was in a safe place, being that he was west and not in any major city or near any military facility, so he stayed where he was. He had a heart condition that prevented him from being drafted and for the moment, Jake was too young. So life for the two of them continued as Kevin boarded with Jake although eventually Kevin stopped paying for the room.

            Jake would go home from hunting, exploring, or whatever he did during the day, and then sometimes he would go around town trading pies and bread for some of his latest catch. Then he would stop at the post office, even though there was never any mail; officially the post office was closed. Jake would then go home, Kevin would have dinner ready, they would eat and talk about the day, Kevin would mention how thing were around the house, make a joke about the lazy dog Bernard, or maybe share some news that was on the radio. Jake would tell about the views he saw that day, if he thought he could catch a fox if he moved the trap north, what the news was in town, and other things like that. This was Kevin’s favorite part of the day, and maybe even Jakes. But some days Jake would stay home, read a book next to the fireplace, chop wood, and do other things around the house. And some days, Kevin would go with him and enjoy the outdoors. But after dinner Jake always did the same thing, and even though his day’s activities would change; this would not.

            Jake would go to the barn where the packages were, and every time Kevin went to look, he was working on that old ford pickup truck. It almost looked like scrap metal, although the Ford didn’t seem to be missing any key parts, but it wouldn’t start. Kevin didn’t know anything about trucks or mechanics, and it didn’t seem Jake did either. When he was done outside, he would meticulously pack up his metal toolbox and return to the house. Placing the toolbox next to his bed, he would go to sleep. This was Kevin’s least favorite part of the day, there was no talking and Kevin felt worthless, unable to help. Kevin would wonder about the toolbox and it comforted him that everything in it had its own place.

            Jake left one morning and headed to check his traps; the first one was empty. Thinking for some time he removed it, and placed it in his sled. Heading to check the next few, they too were empty, but he knew you didn’t catch things every day and didn’t get too upset. After replacing the first trap in a new location, he took out his map and marked its new place. Now it was time for lunch, with the sun over his head he took out his lunch curious to see what Kevin had packed him. It was a wonderful lunch with a container of still warm tomato soup and a quite cold grilled cheese sandwich and, of course, a few pieces of venison jerky, from the deer last week. Well into his meal, Jake sat back and was listening. He enjoyed sitting there watching the sky. There was a crack that startled him, making him spill some of his soup. He thought it was a gunshot he thought, but he couldn’t place what gun it had been. It wasn’t uncommon for people to hunt. Finishing up, he headed away from the gunshot; it was always smart to give people their space. He would have continued to go his own way if things had not changed but this time, when he heard that sound, he was on the side of a hill no longer surrounded by trees and, with nothing blocking his view, he realized it wasn’t a gun shot at all. There was a red flare rising into the sky. Jake looked as if in deep thought. Jake turned around and headed right toward it.

            Kevin was visiting with the marshals when he saw Jake come into town, and had something in the sled behind the snowmobile. Kevin assumed it was something he caught, but it was too large for that and today wasn’t a hunting day, was it? Kevin excused himself from the elderly couple, he put on his hat and coat and started towards the sled determined to solve this small mystery. Jake ran to the doc’s house. That was Kevin’s first clue that the sled held more than just a wild animal. Approaching, he could see the face of a man, pale and white. He examined his face then felt for his pulse, faint but still there. The doctor was an elderly man who lived with his granddaughter. Laying the man on the table, everyone could see his outfit; it was military and American. This concerned Kevin. Why would soldiers be this close? After his shirt was removed, Kevin helped the doctor remove the bullet lodged in the man’s chest. That’s when Jake informed the group that there were others; they were OK and walking to town. When they arrived, John, the wounded man, was stable and with proper care would probably survive.

            The solders talked to all of them gathered in the church, they were passing through, but John was in no condition to travel. So they asked if anyone volunteered to take him in, it was known that the doc could do it but that with his old age and only his granddaughter to help, it would be a burden. A glance at Jake would show he was anxious to volunteer, but he didn’t have the know-how to care for the wounded man, and then Kevin stood up. Before even the doc could object, he informed the lot of them that he used to be a nurse. Of course most in the town had already heard his story; he told it anyway. On account of his heart condition, he couldn’t be trusted in surgery, if something went wrong with him the patient could suffer, he was unreliable. No one wants an unreliable surgical nurse. Although the soldiers were ok with it, Kevin also had to ask the owner of the house Jake. Before he could finish his question, Jake interrupted stating that we would gladly accept this man into his home.

            That night things were settled, Jake gave up his room protesting that an “old man” couldn’t sleep on a couch; no, he would take the couch. After dinner, leaving the house, Jake took his toolbox and worked on that old truck, the next morning Kevin found the toolbox back in its place next to the bed, even though he hadn’t slept there.

            Jake took a great interest in John and, the next day when John woke up, Jake was there at his bedside not out on a hunting trip; he even let his traps have a day off. There wasn’t much John could do so he started reading though the collection of books Jake had, and for the next few weeks it would be the same. It seemed like there wasn’t any progress, but there was.

            It was a snowy day toward the end of winter when John stood for the first time; leaning on Kevin, he walked to the bathroom instead of having the bathroom walked to him. Soon John was walking with some help and then with no help at all.

            After dinner one day, Jake left for the barn and John followed. It was well into the night before Kevin decided to check up on them. Entering the barn, he was struck at the sight of the two men staring at the truck’s engine as John explained what needed to happen. Lying underneath, Jake grabbed the pipe and started removing it, as John stood over him unable to help except to guide the light and hand him tools. As Kevin left, he started thinking about it, and started to smile; he never had the courage to touch anything in that toolbox. But there was John touching away as he handed Jake tool after tool, maybe everything does have its place. Where he had failed to help, John could.

            John was getting better daily. He knew a lot about cars and trucks, and just mechanics in general. John and Jake worked around the house, fitting the pipes, even getting the electric back on in the house using the generator in the barn. They were a sight, the two of them, walking around with John slowly making his way sometimes leaning on Jake for support. Kevin took a photo once out of an old disposable camera. It’s of John leaning on Jake and in the boy’s hand is his toolbox.

            One night they were out late in the barn and the truck was almost done. It was late at night when John came back into the house. He was still weak and needed help. Following him to the barn, Kevin saw Jake had fallen sound asleep. Kevin helped carry Jake back to his bed and, as Kevin turned to leave, John entered and set down the toolbox next to the bed. John sat down on it and pulled the cover up to Jake’s shoulders; then standing, he left. Kevin continued to close the door, but first he saw a smile spread across Jake’s face as he turned over to go to sleep. He silently promised to keep his secret.

            It wasn’t long after that the truck started, and it’s still working. Soon John left, and then they came for Jake. Only Kevin was left in that house to think about the days it was filled with others. It would never be filled again. But in another part of the country, John was teaching a class and among the new recruits was Jake. Maybe like the toolbox, everything does have its place.

SHE WAS THE FIRST KILLED; I WAS THE LAST SHE SAW by McKinley Shindell, Photo by Cade Hawks

It was plastered all over the front page of the daily paper, the large print headline. The rest of the paper was filled with articles about politics, the new bridge installation, or some other thing. The front page glared at me, it was the product of my planning, the anger that built up, and the single moment it happened. Looking at the page brought a vicious smile to my face. The hours of watching, thinking, planning, all to end here, but only to begin again. The house was small, the doors big, surrounded by trees, and lots of windows. The family was small, a dad, who wakes up every morning at 4:45 to go for a run, at 5:45 he returns home to get ready for work, puts some toast in and wakes up his daughter, she slowly takes her time in the morning to get ready for school, then at 7:15 she hops in a new car with a new boyfriend and leaves for school. She was about 16 and the only teen girl in the neighborhood. The one I wanted. I had lived on the same street for years. I had seen her learn how to ride a bike, mourn over the mother’s death, every first occurred in that house. And now it was my first, and her last. I had grown an obsession with her and her family, everything that they did, where they went. One night when the house looked empty, and her dad went out with friends, it was the perfect time. There were a few lights on in the house and, I could see the TV was on and she was sitting there, crying since yet another relationship was over. The garage door didn’t lock I knew that. I slowly approached the garage door, dressed in day clothes, with the knife, duct tape, and rope in hand. The rope crunched in my hand, my face getting hot, and a grin appearing. The brisk autumn air hitting my face, the sky was cloudy, and the house looked like any other house on the street at that hour. I opened the door and slowly made my way inside. The floor was creaking, the rope, rough and scratching my hands with every step. The door opened, I froze in my step, thinking through the plan one last time. Getting ready, I heard the door open and her sweet foot steps sliding across the floor. Her slippers just barely scratched the concrete. Once I heard the noise, I knew that I couldn’t turn back, the choice had been made, she was chosen and her life was about to end. The closer she got, the closer I was to the goal. I could hear her breathing, see her steps. When she peaked around the corner I was ready….

It was plastered all over the front page of the daily paper. The large print headline… Why me? Why? I was sitting in the living room, watching The Notebook. I heard the faintest noise outside the house, but when I heard a door shut, I knew someone or something was in the house. I grabbed my cell, thinking it was a friend playing a trick, I walked to the mudroom, and put my ear against the door. I couldn’t hear anything. Dead silence was ringing through the air. You could here the movie playing in a faint eerie way. I twisted the silver, cold doorknob and stepped into the garage. Our garage was a maze; my dad had boxes of my mom’s stuff, her clothing, books, anything that meant anything to her. There was a refrigerator, camping gear, old electronics, and shelves all over, covered in my child hood, old girl scout cookie boxes that my dad bought out of pity since I never sold as many as the other girls. I made my way quietly, in my pink Kmart slippers and snowflake pajamas to the end of the shelves, the center was open, with a couch that my father had since he was in college and, it smelled like a guys gym bag. I peaked around the corner to see if someone was there. A man who I thought I knew was standing there with a grin on his face. I thought he was drunk and wandered into my house thinking it was his. But when he held up the rope and the tape, I knew this was no accident. He tied the rope around my wrists, and my ankles and the tape over my mouth. I couldn’t believe what was going on and tried to get away for a few seconds, but then I gave up when the knife hit me. The cold metal plunged into me. I could feel the razor blade ripping through me, the blood soaking my clothing. My phone was buzzing on the floor next to me. Then he left and, I was helplessly laying there, and then it all went black as I could hear the sirens….

It was plastered all over the front page of the daily paper. The large print headline. The rest of the paper filled with articles about politics, the new bridge installation, or some other thing. How could this have happened to her, I never should have left her alone. She was only 16. My Baby…. It was late when I got home, I had called her to let her know I was going to be late, there was no answer but I thought she would call me back, or that she was just being stubborn, or, or... As I was driving I could feel that something was wrong. When I pulled up to the house, there were sirens, lights, and police standing around. I knew something had happened to her. Her face was totally pale, her eyes closed, and her clothing drenched; I couldn’t realize that she was gone. The house was empty, a bowl of cereal half eaten, a movie playing, and the lights on. Besides from the garage, with the her blood stained on the flour, the house looked exactly the same….

It plays over and over again in my head. It was a wonderful thing. That moment the blood dripped, the noise ended… I was addicted….

I saw him driving home. I knew he wouldn’t get it. I don’t get it….

The house ghostly, her phone buzzing. How do I tell her friends, family, she was still growing up…

She was the first…

I was only in high school….

In a blink she went from being a baby to now 16 and dead…

It was plastered all over the front page of the daily paper. The large print headline that read, “33284 willow street, a murder scene. Suspect unknown. One 16 year old girl dead…”

STARTING FROM MIDDLE EARTH by Faith Hamlin, Photo by Reed Hutton

Every material in ever color you imagine sits at my fingertips. It’s a world of hackle, feathers, animal hair, dubbing, hooks, thread, and tools, and it may not have been every 18 year old girl’s dream, but it was mine. I am Charlie, or at least that’s what I go by, but my real name is Charlotte. Charlotte has become a sour reminder of being the weak and lone girl in my family, that’s why I prefer Charlie. I am glad I am the lone girl actually, my mom wasn’t that great of a role model. She ran off when I was pretty young. I almost don’t remember her. She isn’t of much importance to me, since my brothers or I were not to her. On the contrary to my mothers behavior, my dad is a hard working-man, who has taken care of my brothers and me, arguably, better than anyone with two parents. My dad and brothers have shaped who I am. I wouldn’t know where the heck I was without them. With their help I haven’t just become Charlie: one of the boys, I have become known as Charlie who is better than the boys.

            Like I said earlier, the place where I have everything at my fingertips is where I have developed who I am. My family likes to call that place middle earth, or as others may refer to it, the basement. In middle earth there are 4 desks that my four brothers and I share, along with my dad. Most weekends you can find that my brothers and I will have disagreements over which desk to have, or who gets to use the best vice to tie a fly. It’s really survival of the fittest down there. A couple days ago my dad had to come down and break up a fight between my brothers over who got to use certain peacock quill for their prince nymph. Things got ugly pretty quickly when my older brother called seniority. Other than the occasional disgruntlements over desks and supplies, once we start working, middle earth is silent. Although its silence makes it the perfect place for schoolwork, homework is forbidden from middle earth. My brothers and I made the no homework pact to keep middle earth sacred. We don’t want the fishing vibe to take a sour hit from school. My brothers struggle with tying overall, though. I think it’s because they have a little less patience, much bigger hands than I, and they can rely on me to tie a fly that won’t fall apart and is guaranteed to catch fish. Middle earth is my favorite place to be, it gives me a quiet place to shine at one of the aspects of fishing I can do best, besides catching bigger fish than my brothers and dad some days. Each desk has acquired its own materials to tie flies for fly-fishing. Every spool of every color of thread you can imagine. There is something special about creating a creature of your own, knowing exactly how everything would work, and then being able to use it successfully. It’s just my happy place to be with my family and to do what we love.

            Sitting at my kitchen table, distracted, staring at my physics homework, I can’t help but to begin daydreaming about being on the river. These days I am just ready to finish school. It’s hard to see an end. Most days I don’t understand why I sit and learn pointless information. If schools could target what kids were good at, like fly fishing, I would be set for life. “That would be the dream, ” I thought. Then, my dad abruptly swung our back door open into the kitchen. With his first step in, he made the room rumble with his boots. Behind my dad came my two oldest brothers, Matthew and Luke. Matthew and Luke are never quiet when they enter a room. Luke immediately trotted over to the kitchen table and grabbed me around the neck and said “Hey there little sis”. As I tried to swat him away, Matthew pinched Luke in the arm and said, “Once you actually catch a fish bigger than your little sis, I don’t think you have a right to call her little.” My dad leaning over the kitchen sink rinsing a mug quickly turned around and chuckled adding, “On your own fly no less”. A sour look appeared on Luke’s face as he released me from his grip. I could only smirk and look back down to the physics homework I was pretending to do. Things in the house settled down again while Luke went to middle earth and Matthew escaped to his room. My dad was usually occupied with keeping the house orderly. My dad would always say that he found it soothing to clean the house, that’s when he sounded like a “Mr. Mom” so to say.

            Outside, a car horn sounded and in marched my two younger brothers Christopher and Andrew. Christopher is the youngest of my family. He is still at a point where nobody in my family wants to give him a hard time because he is still the little baby. Although I participate in the babying Christopher pact, I think it might be going a bit far now that Christopher is in the 8^th grade. Chris went for the fridge and grabbed the milk. Andrew walked over to where I was sitting at the kitchen table and slapped the newspaper in front of me. Before I could push the article off and swat my brother away from my working space he hissed at me to shush. “Dad, you might also want to come look at this,” Andrew announced to the kitchen. Before I could say anything I read the headline: Local Girl: Unlikely Winner of Fly Tying Competition. With that everything in the room went silent and I only focused on the article. I read so quickly and so excitedly that I could only read one line out loud to my dad. I read, “Charlotte Thatcher, or Charlie, is considered to be one of the most skilled fly tiers we have ever seen, she presents great skill in fishing and tying, which is why seems to be one of the most valuable advocates to the sport.” I was one of the most valuable advocates to the sport. Five minutes ago I was an average student in my physics class. It was my time. It didn’t matter that I was a high school girl. That was not how I was to be known now, I can simply be regarded as a fly fisherman.

            Sitting in middle earth, feeling beyond inspired, I started on a new creation. I was interrupted by all four of my brothers. “Take a break all mighty fly fishing advocate,” Luke retorted. Matthew only responded for me saying, “Lay off on the sarcasm you lazy brute, you can’t even catch a fish on your own fly.” To any other family this would be not very insulting but in our house, especially in middle earth, it was. Luke slapped Matthew on the back of the head. Then Christopher blurted out and asked what this all meant. “Like honestly Charlie, what are you going to do?”, Andrew followed. What am I going to do? I have no idea what I am doing. “Charlie, you have to go off fishing, fish all over the world, tie flies all over the world, get out of this place and be the most valuable advocate anyone has ever seen” Luke said passionately. Then Matthew chimed in with a disagreeing tone, “Char, you have to finish school, you can be an advocate after you finish school.” Fishing all over the world doesn’t sound too shabby to me, but I want to be able to fish with my family, and help my dad with my two youngest brothers while they were still in high school. Andrew interrupted my thought saying, “Charlie, you really think you will leave us?” I could only reply with, “no probably not any time soon, bud.”

            Sitting in bed looking into the darkness, I felt like I couldn’t sleep.  My clock won’t stop moving. I just need my eyes to close. With a huge alarming crack, Matthew stood in my room. “Get up. Dad is sick. He needs to go to the hospital,” yelled Matthew. “What?” I asked. “Get the hell up Charlie! This is serious! You’re driving” he replied. My shoes would not slip on fast enough. I ran downstairs and ripped the door open. Seeing my dad in the back of the car already I raced to the driver’s side. My cold hands quivered as they opened the door and put the keys in the ignition. I drove off.

            “Help my dad needs help,” my little brother Christopher yelled right as we all entered the doors of the emergency room. Nurses were out next to me in seconds. They were in panic mode. My entire family was in panic mode. The nurses pushed me away and put my dad on a stretcher. Matthew walked up with my dad as the doors to the emergency room open, but another nurse stepped out and pushed him back to us. I needed to sit down. My eyes were heavy and my stomach keeps turning. I couldn’t help but fade out. I pass out into darkness.

            With a shake, Luke helps me to regain consciousness. I saw the doctor standing and waiting right in front of me. “I am going to be sick,” I was thinking. The doctor spoke with a calm voice saying, “You’re father has gone into a state of shock because cancer has been eating at his colon. The good news is there is a way we think that we can help him and he can live, but the operation is extremely expensive.” Matthew stood up and asked to speak to the doctor in private. Watching him and the expressions I could tell the news wasn’t great for Matthew. He came back over with tears welling in his eyes, barely is able to get his words out. He said “Guys we need to go home, get some rest, and come back when we can see dad.” We all get up and head for the door. I watch all my brothers walk to the car and then Matthew and Luke tug on my arm and I am pulled back to talk to them. “Charlie,” Luke begins. “You are the only one who can help us save dad” Matthew said finishing Luke’s statement. “What?” I say out of confusion. “Charlie, we need the money from your fishing endorsements to get the surgery for dad,” Luke answered.  “We will help you get ready to leave tomorrow to meet Orvis for your pro deal”, Matthew said with tears. Luke continued, “It’s the only way Charlie.”