The Tiger's Pen Mexico High School Creative Writing & Art Magazine 2021

The Tiger’s Pen

 Mexico High School
Creative Writing & Art
      Magazine
         2021

Autumn Falling   Abigayle Trani

Koi Fish Pond
   Alana Rice

Madame Mushroom
         Alli Kerr

Good Morning
Alyssa Bresnahan

Amanda
Amanda Guerra

Ballet Shoes
      She was trapped. Well, she’d always been trapped, but this time it was physically. She
couldn’t understand how it had happened. After everything she’d done… but none of it had
worked. All she could do now was press her back against the hard, wood floor and remember
everything from earlier that day…
        One, two, three, four…. One, two three, four… It was only six am, but she had been up
for an hour already, practicing the dance.
        One, two, three, four. Mother was awake. She could smell the bacon cooking.
        One, two three, four. She practiced the moves hurriedly, before Mother called her for
breakfast. She threw off the ballet shoes before going downstairs. Mother would be furious
that she was up so early and didn’t get enough sleep.
        “Good morning, Mother,” her voice was as soft as silk.
        “Good morning, Elizabeth.” Mother’s voice was hard and stern, it had always been.
        Elizabeth made herself a plate of food. Two pieces of bacon, an egg, juice. Routine
breakfast for competition days.
        “Too much and you won’t fit into your dress,” Mother would say, denying Elizabeth
second helpings. She didn’t believe her mother, though; she thought it better to dance with a
full stomach, but she didn’t dare argue with Mother.
        Elizabeth sat in her usual seat, across from Mother. While Elizabeth sipped her coffee,
Mother stared. The staring was also competition routine. Elizabeth never knew why, maybe
she was testing her or sizing her up. It always made her uncomfortable, so she focused
instead on repeating the dance in her head. One, two, three, four.
        The second Elizabeth finished eating, Mother turned her head to look out the window.
The sun beams danced on her face.
        “Today’s the day,” was all she said.
        Elizabeth cleaned up after herself but did not respond. She knew Mother wanted to be
the one to talk.
        “Matthew will arrive in an hour.” Elizabeth’s instructor. He was bringing them to the
competition. “You must win today,” Mother’s lips pursed. “There’s no other option.” Elizabeth
noticed her mother avoided looking in her direction, as usual.
        Elizabeth made her way back upstairs, glad to be away from Mother. She had made it
through every ballet competition she entered for the past eleven years. She had been dancing
since she was five.
        It was always just Mother, Elizabeth and Matthew. Her father had left when she was
young. Her mother always threatened to get a new daughter if she failed a competition, and
Elizabeth didn’t know if she was serious or not; she didn’t want to risk it, though.
        She put her ballet shoes back on and resumed practicing. One, two, three, four.
        This competition was different, it was the final. If she won, she would go to a prestigious
dance school, the most prestigious in the world. Everything she had done for the past eleven
years was leading up to this. If she got in, she would be away from Mother, and that is what
kept her going.
        Matthew arrived exactly an hour later. She put on her pink, flowy, competition dress and
twirled her hair into a tight, top bun. Both made her feel like she was being suffocated.

The journey to the competition was completely silent. Elizabeth could feel her nerves
boiling inside her. Once they arrived, Mother went straight inside to check them in.
       Matthew pulled Elizabeth aside. The wind pushed harshly on her bare arms and legs.
       “This is it,” he said.
       She nodded. He’d told her this many times before.
       Matthew’s eyebrows pressed together. “This is really it. This will be the last time I see
you. Your mother already cancelled our lessons after today, assuming you’ll win.”
       She pressed her lips together. Winning was the only option; she couldn’t bear to imagine
what might happen if she didn’t.
       “Good luck,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure teaching you.”
       That was his goodbye. Elizabeth remained silent. Even though Matthew had always
been good to her, she couldn’t respond. Goodbyes were too hard.
       Inside the building, she saw Mother in the stands and then Matthew heading up to join
her. With a deep breath, she went backstage to join the other dancers, all in their flowy, pink
dresses, too. She did not look unique, so her dance would have to be.
       The judges gave the lineup before going to their stations. Elizabeth would go last,
unfortunately.
       She watched the others perform their dances. One, two, three, four. She counted their
steps, their movements. She had to be better than them. She watched the judges’ pens
scribble away between each performance.
       “Elizabeth Halter,” her name was called. She swallowed the lump in her throat and
stepped to the stage, forcing her legs to stop shaking.
       “Start.” A gruff voice said.
       The music played. One, two, three, four. She would be free soon.
       One, two, three, four. Away from Mother forever.
       One, two, three, four. Out of the disgustingly silent house.
       One, two, three, four. She will win. She had to.
       One, two, three… please let me win, four. No. She was off a beat.
       Four, one, two. No. She felt like screaming the word. No!
       She came to a stop, two beats early. Her whole world crumbled around her.
       “Very good.” The voice excused her.
       Elizabeth froze where she stopped. She had messed up. She had never messed up in a
competition before.
       “Please go off-stage,” the same voice instructed. She forced herself to move away, not
able to look at Mother or Matthew. They knew she messed up.
       It felt like hours had passed when the judges finally called the dancers back to the stage
to announce the winner.
       “Elizabeth” was not called first. Another girl’s name was. Elizabeth did not win. Elizabeth
would not be free.
       “Second place goes to Elizabeth Halter,” they announced.
       But that was not enough, not for Mother. Elizabeth, dazed, soon felt a hand pulling her
elbow away. It must be Mother, no one else had her bruising grip.
       She could not remember much of the way or even how they got home. Everything had
gone black the moment her dreams had been crushed. All Elizabeth could hear, as if in a far-off
realm, were the angry mutterings of Mother. They brought her back to reality.
       “Mother, I…” Elizabeth finally tried explaining, as Mother lead her inside the house. Her
elbow hurt from her mother’s tight grip.
       “Shush,” She hissed. “I don’t want to hear you or see you again. You failed. I warned you
what would…”

“But, I tried so hard, Mother!” Elizabeth cried out. Couldn’t her mother see that? “I did
everything you’ve asked, I’ve won everything you’ve wanted!”
       Mother shook her head, not releasing Elizabeth. “Everything? And what of today?”
       “I can practice more,” Elizabeth begged. “I’ll do better next time. Please.”
       Mother shook her head and dug her fingers deeper into Elizabeth’s arm. She led her up
the stairs and down the hall to a door Elizabeth had never entered before. Her mother
unlocked it and opened it. Steps lead up to the attic. Mother shoved her up, Elizabeth was too
confused to say anything as she tripped her way to the top. When she arrived, she turned to
face her mother, eyes wide.
       “There,” Mother stared up at her. “Maybe here you can learn the true meaning of hard
work. Practice.” The door slammed shut and locked.
       Elizabeth was trapped.
       Why is this happening? Was her only thought.
       She sat there for an hour, her back starting to hurt from pressing so hard against the
wall. Mother hadn’t come let her out.
       Giving up, Elizabeth peeled herself from the floor. She brushed off her now dirty ballet
dress. Her shoes still on.
       She took a deep breath, then started again. One, two, three, four.

Lightning
Mackenzie Craig

Meladee in Color
 Meladee Doria

Moonlight Waves
Meladee Doria

Ellery Lavas Space
        Ellery Clark

Grace
Grace Dann

Sonic vs. Bruce The Mighty Dodo Bird
                                      Chapter 2 Excerpt
                                           M. Waite

                           When to Fight and When to Strategize

       “OK, I’ve got a plan. First, we go to Angel island to check on the Master Emerald.
Second, we’ll go find the Chaos Emeralds. Third, we’ll show Bruce the Mighty Dodo Bird
why it's not ok to mess with our home. Finally, we’ll celebrate our victory with a party!”
Sonic said and winked as he finished his plan.
      “OK!” agreed Tails, Amy, Cream, Knuckles, Silver, Rouge, and Shadow.
      So, after their plan was set, Sonic and the others headed to Angel Island where the
Master Emerald had been hidden since Sonic's last battle against Eggman and his robot
army. As Sonic and the others arrived at Angel Island, they received news that Bruce was
planning to make Mega Central more to his liking.
       “This building will go here… That one will go there, what’s with that look on your
face, Zeilla? This is our new home,” Bruce said, looking up at Zeilla the Harpy Eagle after
maneuvering the buildings on Mega Central.
      “Couldn’t we have taken this place without destroying it and harming all those
people? I feel like we’re just like the elders at home.” Zeilla said, looking at Bruce with
concern.
      “Ha! We’re better than the elders back home! We have the superior tech! A loyal
army at our disposal! Now we have a place to call home! So why do you worry?” Bruce
looked at Zeilla angrily, staring right into her eyes.
     “I have a feeling that we haven’t seen the last of Sonic and his friends,” Zeilla
answered, staring at the horizon from the ship’s window.

Note: Sonic lost the starting battle against Bruce and went with Tails, Knuckles, and
Shadow to a hidden location where Amy and Cream had taken the citizens of Mega
Central. This story is also a fanfiction.

Peace
Grace Dann

Into the Abyss
 Kelsey Alivia

Nature’s Border
 Kelsey Alivia

Orange Eyes
Kelsey Alivia

Village of the Fae
Kelsey Alivia

Secrets in The Eyes
-Mallory Mills

Eyes so wide and deep
Oh, what secrets do you keep
Eyes so full of hope
Oh, with what sadness do you cope
Eyes full of darkness
Oh, how you are harmless
Eyes full of time
Oh, what you have seen in your lifetime
Eyes full of sorrow
Oh, how there is always tomorrow
Eyes full of love
Oh, what a lovely dove
Eyes full of loneliness
Oh, how there is only us
Eyes full of curiosity
Oh, how you are full of luminosity
Eyes so green
Oh, how unforeseen
Eyes so blue
Oh, what a view
Eyes so Brown
Oh, why do you frown

PB Jellyfish
Kelsey Alivia

Just My Face
LeAnne Carlin

My Second Home
Avery Mack

P-Water-10
Merisa Jewell

The Flash
Jack Mills

Moon Story

       NASA could not have predicted the significance of this machine. It was a giant, ugly shape of

mass made for a singular objective. A sphere of black elastic mass on top of metallic chrome. It

was a marvel of massively consequential ingenuity. As the moon moved at its own pace, there was

dark silence. No sound could move across the smothering vacuum of space. It was a rock in a

totally quiet space, totally unaware of looming danger, and totally vulnerable. There is no escape

and there is no help.

       Suddenly, there was an explosion. Orange, red, black. Everything is both so dark and so

bright. It’s an awesome release of pure combustion and power. It has begun, but for the moon,

there is still no sound.

       The acceleration breaks the sound barrier. The blank-faced pilots communicate amongst

themselves in binary. Their language is as cold and calculating as their objective. They only know

one word: faster. Their velocity is perpendicular to the arc of the moon. The plan is going

accordingly. They break from the Earth’s atmosphere and join the unsuspecting rock within the

ocean of quiet. No one can hear a sound. Five seconds until the future is changed for all and

forever.

       Five, four, three, two, one. It is done. They have made contact. The emergency alarms within

the chrome vehicle are singing, but there is no crowd to listen. Only the moon can feel the impact

of what has just occurred. The machine bounces off the surface and has become a castaway, but

the passengers don’t care, for they only exist for a single purpose. Both them and the objective of

their mission have ceased. The rock may have only moved a few hundred meters, but overtime,

that few hundred meters will become a few thousand, and then a few million, until humans are

either unable to imagine a world with a moon in orbit or are far too old to imagine at all.

Nyah Close-Up
  Nyah Pinzer

Dragon
Detail
 Nyah
Pinzer

Guys Cry Too
Nyah Pinzer

Venom
Nyah Pinzer

The Cursed Mask
Tucker Montante

August 14th 2007
Southern Iowa

You live alone in a small, bungalow in the countryside. It is a chilly evening, the cold wind prying
against the eaves as you try to fall asleep.

Your television softly crackles, the white noise helping to lull you to rest. You feel your eyes begin
to slide shut as a deep sleep sets in; you’re snuggled under your blankets.

Suddenly, you are jolted awake moments later by the shriek of an alarm. A news flash blinks
across the screen as you gain your bearings. Rolling across the screen is a weather warning.

Natural, you think, with the wind roaring as it is. But something seems off. There are some
warnings that do not seems to fit with a weather broadcast.

[Do not look outside. Stay away from your windows. Stay in your home.]

The warnings flash for a few more moments before the power blinks out. Startled, you remain still
under the covers. The room is silent, only the sound of the wind outside can be heard, pounding
against the walls.

A thick stillness hangs in the air, leaving you paralyzed. Your breathing quickly becomes shallow
as beads of sweat start to slide down your back. Fear grips you as you turn towards the window.
A sick curiosity firmly pulls you toward it.

You begin to creep slowly across the floor, the old wooden boards screaming with each step. You
peel your eyes from the floor to look to the window. It rests in the wall like a macrabre painting. It
glares at you, taunts you, calls to you.

As if staring at the eye of a massive creature, you cannot look away. In your mind, your steps
echo like a scream, but your good sense tries to convince you they are only a whisper.

Your gaze is fixed to the window, unwavering. The stillness of the air makes you want to tear off
your own flesh, its chill clinging to your skin like burning oil.

Your steps seem to grow louder, but they also seem much more… distant. Far away, even. With
your heart hammering in your chest, you move closer to the sill.

Four more steps. Three more steps. Two more. One last step.

You draw within an arm’s reach and lift your arm to touch the sill. It plays at the end of your
fingertips as you peer into the pale, plate glass.

You recoil in horror as you realize it’s not the window that has been staring at you, nor the wind
that has been pounding on the walls.

It’s what’s behind it.

My Childhood
Tucker Montante

Tucker Montante