Viking Voice: Halloween Issue
Misty Falls (Excerpt from a novel)
by Himeshi Abeyratne
The little seaside town of Misty Falls certainly lived up to its name.
There wasn’t an inch of the place that wasn’t shrouded in mist; it crept out from behind buildings, clung to lampposts, trailed behind street-goers, and added to the eerie, mysterious ambiance of the town. Despite this, the town was a popular attraction among tourists, though many of them never stayed long. It was perhaps fear, disappointment, or a little bit of both that drove them out eventually.
Misty Falls was a curious, peculiar place, veiled not only by mist, but by its secrets and rumours.
Ridiculous as it may sound, Felicity supposed there was some truth to it. She had read about it in her copy of Misty Falls: Shadows of the Past, though she couldn’t say the sources were exactly reliable. She’d purchased it from a shabby little store on her drive here, a half-hearted attempt to get to know the place she would be calling home for the next few weeks. She remembered a particularly interesting paragraph she’d marked, one that spoke of the infamous rumour of Misty Falls being haunted:
Though many locals claim the Haunting of Misty Falls is a mere child’s tale, none can deny the odd and sometimes frightening events that occur from time to time within the town. For instance, July of 1976, the fire that burned down the church, taking half of the town along with it, should not – according to the owner – have occurred at all, considering it had been a rainy day as it always was in Misty Falls. Or the gruesome murder of little Josie Valentine, whose body had been found buried beneath the sand at Myrtle Beach, missing her eyes, teeth, and tongue. Though most likely the work of a disturbed individual, several residents firmly believe that her death had something to do with supernatural activity.
It was those last few words – supernatural activity – that had driven Felicity to visit Misty Falls in the first place. Tracking supernatural activity was her job, after all. Admittedly, her parents were none too thrilled when she dropped out of college to pursue such a – in her mother’s words – “childish fantasy”, but Felicity was a woman who knew her own interests, and when she did, she tended to go after them, no matter what others had to say.
So here she was now, sitting in her dingy little hotel room in Misty Falls, looking out the window at the – well, mist, the television playing a black and white program in the background, clutching her book to her chest. The room contained an assortment of questionable and admittedly strange items. Supernatural trackers were what she referred to them as, because that’s pretty much what they were. She took them with her every time a new job opportunity rose up. They monitored and tracked supernatural activity in a place, and right now they were lit up and spinning, whirring and buzzing, humming and alive with activity. She couldn’t get them to shut up, and she suspected she’d go mad if she didn’t find a way to do so soon.
Felicity jumped, startled when a particular one of her objects started whirring, faster than the others. She got up immediately to inspect it, grimacing at the flashing lights and beeps it was emitting. As soon as she got up, another one went off, and then another, and another, a chain reaction, until they were all spinning and beeping blindingly fast, a cacophony of noise. In the middle of her hotel room, surrounded by it all, Felicity grinned.
It was time to go ghost hunting.
Himeshi Abyratne is a grade twelve student and a long-time member of Young Writers’ Club. She is currently working on a novel.
Revenge and Regret
by Rebecca Sorgini
Phoebe gripped the gate with her right hand, pushing it open as ice ran through her veins. The metal contours beneath her hand felt as familiar as her own skin, even though she hadn’t been here in years. She stepped through, guiding herself up the stone path to the eerie little house nestled in the dense foliage. The garden in front of the house was now overgrown, its thick vines clinging to the brick.
Phoebe remembered it all, the rounded slope of the roof, the crooked brass lettering on the front that read Thornbury Home for Girls. She hadn’t seen it in forever, but the memories came back to her in a rush. The scars on her back seemed to grow more painful with every step closer to the door. Phoebe remembered the minutes spent waiting for the belt to rip through her skin, the hours it burned afterward, the days she spent trying to conceal them for she knew she would get more if anyone knew. She remembered crying herself to sleep every night, craving love but never receiving it. Those were old memories. She gripped the handle of the knife, knowing that tonight she would get her revenge.
Phoebe tucked the knife into her robe, attempting to camouflage it as she banged the old-fashioned door knocker against the solid wooden door. She slowed her rapid breathing and smiled, repeating her alibi over and over in her head. She wasn’t here to dish out karma. She had only come to visit her childhood home. The door creaked open and a lady, dressed in a scarf so that only her eyes could be seen, peeked her head through. Phoebe couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“It’s been too long,” Phoebe said. She tried not to roll her eyes. This was the woman who had destroyed her.
Reaching up, Phoebe stretched her arms to give the old woman a hug, and time slowed. As they gripped each other in a tight embrace, Phoebe’s eyes widened, and she thought, it’s now or never. Holding her knife, she plunged it into the woman’s back, blood spouting from the fatal wound she had created. The woman became limp in her arms, falling to the floor, shock coming over what little could be seen of her face.
“Phoebe… why? Why would you do this to me? We were all we had.” the woman said as her body convulsed on the floor.
As if. This was the woman that had taken everything from her. She deserved to die. Unless… no. It couldn’t be her best friend, Melissa. She and Phoebe had promised each other they would leave this viper’s den as soon as they turned eighteen. Hands shaking with dread, she peeled back the sweaty face wrap of the dying woman. No. No. No! This couldn’t be happening. Her breathing sped.
“What have I done?” Phoebe brought her knuckle to her mouth and bit down until she tasted blood as an Earth-shattering scream escaped from her lips.
She had taken the life of her sister. When they were young, they had pricked their fingers and shared blood. Phoebe felt a part of herself die with Melissa as black crept into the corners of her vision. She emptied her stomach onto the floor and heard sirens in the distance. She knew she would have a life sentence, but it might as well have been torture. Her whole life would be spent rotting in a jail cell, the guilt of her crime eating her alive from the inside out. However, Phoebe was not afraid, for she knew it was the price she had to pay. She lifted her head high, Melissa’s last breath ringing in her ears.
Rebecca Sorgini is a grade nine student with an interest in creative writing.
by Eric Kivisto
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Alexander asked shakily, his grip tight on the steering wheel. Alexei nodded and placed a gentle hand on Alexander’s knee.
“Yes, I’m sure.” He spoke softly. “We’ve been together for three years now. Why wouldn’t I want to meet your mother?” Alexander’s gaze flicked over to Alexei’s face before returning to the road. He didn’t speak for a while, leaving only the hum of the car engine and the sound of tires over tarmac to fill the silence between them. Finally, Alexander nodded.
“Okay.” He said softly, trying hard to choke back tears as he pulled over next to the cemetery. It took Alexei a few moments to process, but between the quiet tears and Alexander exiting the car, it wasn’t too difficult to read the situation. Alexei undid his seatbelt and followed Alexander. They walked in silence until they came upon a grave with a simple headstone that read “Helena Hartmann; A beautiful soul taken far too soon. May she forever rest peacefully.” Alexander knelt down in front of it, pressing his fingers to his lips and then to the headstone. Against the headstone rested a framed photograph of a lovely woman and her family, all smiling brightly.
“Here she is…” Alexander gently picked up the photograph and handed it to Alexei.
Upon seeing it up close, Alexei saw that the woman — however beautiful she was, with her long, raven hair, bright green eyes, and sweet, loving smile — looked frail. She sat in a hospital bed, tubes and wires hooking her up to machines that were working to keep her alive, and yet she still smiled and wrapped her thin, weak arms around her children. Sighing, Alexander stood up.
“She’s pretty.” Alexei stood beside Alexander, carefully looking over the photograph. He could tell that the young children in the picture were Alexander and his twin sister, Maria. They smiled, and their smiles were cheerful. It was like they couldn’t yet tell that their mother was dying.
“Yeah, she was… She died of cancer when Maria and I were ten. Papa insisted on using a picture where she doesn’t look weak, but Mama wanted this one in front of her grave.”
Alexander smiled weakly. “It’s been awhile since I last came to visit her …I miss her.” Alexei knelt down and carefully placed the photograph back.
“Hello, Mrs.Hartmann. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Alexei smiled softly. “Xander’s told me so much about you.” Alexander watched, tears flooding his eyes again.
“Lex?” He questioned, hardly loud enough for him to hear himself.
“I heard you love drawing and painting. Xander must get it from you. You should see some of his pieces! Our art teacher, Ms.Curt, keeps trying to convince him to submit them to the student exhibit at the gallery, but he never thinks they’re good enough.” Alexei laughed slightly, resting his head in his hand. “Maria’s doing well, too. She recently got the lead role on our school play, and she was chosen as a soloist at her dance company’s next contest! You must be so proud of your children.” He stayed there, talking to Alexander’s mother as if she were still alive, for a good hour or so. Alexander stood back, part way between laughing cheerfully at his partner and crying hysterically over his mother.
“Well, it was really nice to talk to you, ma’am. Before I go, I just wanted to say thank you. Your son means the world to me, and it feels wrong to not thank the woman that gave him life. You’ve raised such a wonderful young man…” This was the last straw for Alexander. He fell to his knees and began sobbing grossly into his hands. Alexei glanced over and then back at the grave. “I promise I’ll take care of him.” He mimicked Alexander’s earlier action of pressing his fingers to his lips and then to the headstone. Then, he stood and walked back to Alexander, carefully helping him to stand. Alexander sobbed into Alexei’s chest, clinging to him tightly. Slowly and gently, Alexei began leading Alexander back to the car. Once he was able to stop the tears, Alexander looked up.
“S-sorry…” He sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I wasn’t prepared for the emotional impact of that visit.”
“It’s fine, Luchik.” Alexei said, smiling softly. “I’m glad I finally got to meet your mother.”
“I think she was glad to meet you, too.” Alexander forced a smile. “We should get home.”
“We should. I’ll drive.” Alexei kissed the top of Alexander’s head.
“Alright.” Alexander climbed into the passenger seat, buckling up his seat belt. He looked over at Alexei as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “I love you, Lex.” Alexei looked back at him, a soft look on his face.
“I love you, too, Xander.” He smiled, leaning over to plant a kiss on Alexander’s cheek.
Eric Kivisto is a grade 10 student that enjoys writing, reading, art, and music. This piece is part of a larger fan-made project containing several original characters.
Trapped in My Mind
By Abigail Oshell
Her name was Saskia. She was about to die, alone and afraid. Saskia didn’t quite know herself where she was. She had been struck by a bullet. She was merely walking through the woods when a sharp agonising pain hit her abdomen and she began to bleed viciously. It had only come to her now what had happened. She had been walking calmly when she heard a bang that piqued her curiosity, though, she now understood. A gunshot, that gunshot was what caused her to fall painfully to the ground, creating a noise that echoed through the deserted woods.
Saskia was dying, slowly, painfully, and no one would know. Huxley would have killed the man who shot her if he were here, she thought to herself. Saskia wanted to scream, to cry out, but she couldn’t. She tried to yell, but she spat blood that tasted almost like iron and made no sound. All Saskia could do was think. She felt lost, no part of her body could move. She was stuck, trapped in her own mind. Instead of trying to save herself, she thought of Huxley. The thought of him warmed her heart and she could of smiled if the raging pain would have subsided. She loved Huxley, yet she had never told him. She could barely handle the thought of dying. She knew it would happen, but never would she have guessed she would die at only the age of sixteen. Saskia hadn’t had a life yet.
Earlier that day Saskia had gazed out of her window and had noticed the rich coloured leaves in the woods. She had ran outside to be greeted by the crisp, cool fall air. It was just beautiful in the woods. She had missed fall all year and now that it was here, she was looking forward to enjoying it. Saskia had lived with Huxley since she was twelve. He was only fourteen when they ran away from home and moved to an aged house in the country. Saskia would always remember that moment Huxley came and got her from her wicked parents who had beat and starved her almost to death as a child. He had truly saved her. But today, the day she was to die, was the only day she hadn’t told Huxley where she was going when she skipped out of the house joyfully that morning.
Saskia left her mind and the memories for a minute, only to turn on to her side and spit blood all over the colourful ground, coated with leaves. She looked up and a smooth, fresh breeze welcomed her. In the air leaves floated down slowly onto the ground. Saskia lifted her hand and stared at it. Thick red blood dripped silently from it, and then she felt herself again. Without warning her numb body felt again. The pain hit her like a train as it rattled her bones and scooped up her soul. Saskia wanted to shriek, to lash out against the pain, but her body wouldn’t listen to her, couldn’t listen to her. She was almost dead. Saskia knew it wasn’t long now. Her abdomen began to bleed more rapidly.
Her mind wandered once more, however, this time she thought of that repulsive person that had shot her. Saskia would’ve cursed at the idiot who did this, but her voice was lost in her stomach which was now only a pool of deep red blood. She was curious about how long she had been stranded in her mind as her body lay lifeless on the cold, hard, forest ground.
She stared off into the empty woods for what was the last time she would see the world living. Slowly she began to gain heavy eyelids. Saskia was going to close her eyes and not open them ever again. She fought against it, she fought to live for Huxley. Blood pooled around her and her body was a lost cause now. Saskia couldn’t even cough up the thick glob of blood in her throat anymore. She just let the blood run from her mouth. Saskia removed her hand from her wound letting the blood pour out steadily. Huxley entered her mind once more and she only needed to say his name. She had to say it before she died, she wanted to hear her voice say his name one more time. So the word came out of her mouth, “Huxley.” She had said it. The words left her as a whisper that silently slid through the barren woods.
Saskia was done. The pain engulfed her completely. Everything hurt, even her mind, and she was done. She was ready to die, ready to close her heavy eyes and never open them again. Saskia thought for the last time, “Huxley.” She hadn’t expected to say it but she had needed to. Those words, her last words, left her lips smoothly and swiftly. Saskia closed her eyes slowly and darkness swallowed her.
Huxley gripped her hand tightly, he had been waiting hours for her to awaken. The doctors told him they didn’t know if she would ever wake up. He had found her in the woods just minutes after the gunshot he heard. By then she was already passed out and almost bled out. He was going to kill the shooter if he ever found out who did this. It had taken Huxley hours to comprehend the fact that someone had shot Saskia, his Saskia. If she never woke up he would never forgive himself for letting her leave the house that morning. He gripped her hand tighter and hoped, prayed she would wake up.
“Please Saskia, wake up and come back to me.” Huxley said as his voice quivered. If she never woke up and never came back to him he would always carry the burden of the fact he had never told her he loved her. Without warning Saskia’s gleaming blue eyes opened lazily. In that one moment Saskia knew and Huxley knew she was not going to die that day after all.
Abigail Oshell is a grade nine student in the STEP Laptop program.
Into the Jungle
by Anthony D’Alosio
“Look at that view,” said Chris through the headset to his wife Cindy.
They were flying in a helicopter into the middle of the Indian rainforest to explore its amazing landscape. As minutes passed, the helicopter slowly landed on an old cracked cobblestone pad. When the pilot gave them a signal Chris and Cindy ran out of the helicopter, their hair blowing in the cool wind from its blades. They planned to stay two nights in the tropical forest and explore the old landmarks built hundreds of years ago.
“I can’t believe we’re here. I’m so excited!” Cindy said, hugging Chris.
“I know! Isn’t it amazing?” He replied.
They began to hike down an overgrown trail, carrying their huge backpacks filled with food and supplies. Chris lead the way using a large machete to cut the leaves and branches off the trail. The strange noises of the forest traveled through the humid air. They saw monkeys and a variety of insects that slowly crawled along the branches of the ancient trees. Soon the bright orange sun started to set and they needed to set up camp for the night. Chris used his prior knowledge of camping to pitch the tent while Cindy lit a fire to cook their simple dinner. Soon it was dark, and the two crawled into their tent and under their sleeping bags to cut the chill that the rainforest nights brought.
“Get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day!” Chris said as a big yawn came over him.
“Do you think we’ll get to see the temple?” Cindy asked, but Chris was already asleep. She couldn’t fall asleep she was too excited for their adventure ahead.
Just before the break of dawn, the couple awoke and began their second day of exploration. Hours of difficult hiking passed without any sign of the temple.
“I don’t think we are going to find it,” Chris said
“Just a bit longer, we’ve got to be close,” she replied.
Then over a hill they found the ancient Hindu temple, made of stone and covered in ivy. Once inside, Cindy checked their map as she aimed her flashlight into the darkness of the temple.
Cindy lead the way through the twisted, narrow hallways covered in 500 years of dust. They walked along the narrow path, looking at the ancient drawings etched into the stone walls.
“I wonder what they mean.” Chris said, puzzled by the symbols and drawings on the walls.
“Apparently they are about their ancient gods and goddesses,” she replied.
As they turned around a corner the narrow hallway opened up into a huge room. Chris lit a torch mounted on the stone wall, revealing years of artifacts that could help understand what life in India was like long ago. There were books, treasures and even ancient shriveled bodies lying on wood benches.
“I can’t believe we finally found it!” Chris said, bending down to examine the priceless relics.
“This is amazing!” Cindy exclaimed, looking around.
Her eyes scanned the room, landing on something shiny in the corner. She gasped. Atop an embellished pedestal sat a solid gold ring. They both ran to it looking at it in awe, their fingers begging to touch it. Chris reached out and grabbed the small gold ring, and as he touched it, a loud crack echoed through the temple. Suddenly, the doors to the temple began closing, creaking inch by inch.
“Put it back!” Cindy screamed as they started to run down the twisty narrow hallways.
Chris threw the ring but the doors didn’t stop. The two tried to remember which way they came so they could escape. As moments passed, they remembered their way out of the temple running as fast as their legs could carry them to the exit. By now the door was only inches from being sealed shut.
“Hurry!” Cindy said, her voice trembling.
They made it to the door and crawled underneath, Chris squeezing through behind her to save his life. Cindy closed her eyes; she couldn’t watch. But Chris finally made it out just in the nick of time, both saved from being trapped in the temple forever.
“Thank goodness!” she said as she wiped the sweat from her face.
“Wow, that was close … too bad we didn’t get anything from the temple.” he said looking at the ground.
“That’s what you think,” Cindy said as she pulled out a tattered piece of paper.
“It’s a map leading to the next temple in India! I grabbed just before we got out.” She said.
“We’ll be back and more ready than ever,” Chris said, with a wide grin on his face.
Anthony D’Alosio is a grade nine student in the STEP Laptop Program.
by Rhea Larton
Happiness hits hard like the bright sun.
Beautiful white Butterflies surround the sky
Wings are white as pale snow.
A butterfly gently lands at the tip of my finger.
They surround me and carry me into the sky.
Is true happiness yet to come?
Rhea Larton is member of the Young Writers’ Club with a passion for poetry.
Book Review: Room
I recently finished reading Room by Emma Donoghue. When I initially heard about the book, I was hesitant to pick it up, as it didn’t sound like anything I’d ever read before. I was also wary of reading about such a serious topic. However, after lots of recommendations and the release of its movie counterpart, I decided to give it a try, and was unable to put it down.
Room is a riveting and emotional story told from the perspective of five-year-old Jack, born and raised in captivity with his mother in an eleven-foot square room. What I really loved about this book was that the reader was required to read between the lines. Jack’s poignant innocence and lack of understanding makes him somewhat of an unreliable narrator. Admittedly, this narrative did get a little frustrating at times, especially because of Jack’s blatant obliviousness. However, his look at the world was refreshing, and it was nice not to be dragged down by the complexities of an adult narrator for a change.
Although it was hard to connect with these characters, because their situation was something I could not even imagine myself in, their emotions, such as fear, was something I could understand. What made this story so compelling was the relationship between Jack and his mother, which was beautifully showcased. Ma’s fierce love for Jack, and all the effort she put into ensuring his happiness in their confined space was something I found heart-wrenching. It was truly remarkable that despite the horrible situation they were put in, they still managed to find strength within each other.
Looking past Jack’s sugar-coated perspective on life, you start to understand the true gravity of the situation these characters are in. This book has made me more aware of the fact that the events in this story are more than fiction, and that there are people in the world who face this type of ordeal every day. It also highlights the long term psychological and physical results of this experience that many victims face.
Overall, Room was an eye-opening and haunting read, and I would highly recommend this book to anyone!
Himeshi Abeyratne is grade twelve at Lockerby Composite. She has been a member of the Young Writers’ Club for the past three years.
Mission 67 by Justin Calverly
by Justin Calverly
The warped spacecraft blundered through space containing the two alien siblings and the droid. They had names, but none of them could be displayed in human characters, so for simplicity, their names will be Gort, Bunx, and Klare the droid. Gort sat at the wheel, steering the ship towards the large green and blue planet. Behind Gort’s ship was a massive Deadbeamer, a large spacecraft capable of obliterating towns with its lasers. The ship was intent on capturing them, although they had done nothing wrong. Gort maneuvered between asteroids, occasionally bumping into small debris. Bunx fiddled with a tiny computer.
“Gort?” asked Bunx.
Gort sighed. Bunx got very annoying sometimes. “Yes Bunx?”
“My research leads us to believe the wet planet is inhabited. Strange debris creates a shield around the surface. Entry will be difficult,” Bunx reported.
“Blast!” yelled Gort. “Perhaps they’re extinct. Any signs of organic material on the surface?”
Klare performed a scan. “Organic materials are negative. Previous life may have existed here, but our scanners show no signs of it,” he relayed.
Gort squinted at the metal objects crowding the planet’s exterior. Perhaps the Wet Planet had signal jammers built into their shielding devices. Perhaps the jammers would disrupt their scanners. Perhaps they would disrupt their pursuer’s Deadbeams. “Bunx! Activate the Red beams!” he yelled.
“Understood!” yelled Bunx. He pressed a large button on his computer, and the space junk began to explode, creating a small hole in the metallic shielding. Gort smiled as his ship sailed through the shielding.
“Klare! Organic material?” Gort yelled.
Klare quickly performed a scan as Gort steered the ship towards a large city made of white steel. “Lifeforms: negative. Electronic Signals: present and numerous. Signs of previous life are present,” Klare reported. “Executing Enhanced Lifeform Scan. Lifeforms detected! Behind us and rapidly approaching!” A red light on Klare’s head illuminated.
A transmission arrived over Gort’s control pad. “Gort! Surrender your ship at once! The Deadbeamer will obliterate your protective shields and disable your thrusters!” threatened Bluf, the Deadbeamer’s captain.
Bunx punched in a coded message. “Gort! I can hack into Bluf’s transmitters. We just need to let them into the atmosphere!” He extended an antennae from his laptop.
“Gort! Respond or face total destruction!” Bluf yelled.
Gort engaged his defense systems as a blinding beam of light rippled across the space junk. A gaping hole now spanned most of the sky above. Alarms went off in the city below, and lights flashed.
As the Deadbeamer approached Gort’s ship, Bunx cheered. He pressed a large blue button on the wall of the ship, and suddenly, the Deadbeamer’s thrusters deactivated.
Gort froze. “You idiot!” He narrowly evaded pieces of debris falling from above.
Bunx mashed buttons on his laptop. A thruster impaled the Glokram in the side, and both ships plummeted to the ground, but before they hit the ground, Gort pressed a button. He tackled Bunx and Klare to the back of the ship, just as the back disconnected. Mini thrusters extended from the escape pod, and a glass casing covered the opening from before.
“We made it.” Gort exhaled softly, relieved to be safe. He landed the escape pod in the city.
“What about our home?” Bunx asked, his eyes tearing up.
Gort smiled. “We may be stranded, but I bet you two dozen gold bars we can find a ship somewhere.” His smiled changed to a smirk. “Race you to the Deadbeamer!”
Justin Calverly is a grade nine student in the STEP/Laptop program.
Les démons dans ma tête
Dams vos têtes
Gueletonnent sûr l’optimisme
Les démons me contrôlent
L’or ou l’esprit
Je suis coincé
Ça me manque
La prison de la vie
Les démons se bagarrent
contre mes défauts
L’esprit du sucèss
Les démons causent
16 Sweet Years
by Mackenzie Lavallie
I remember my first hug
Loosing my first tooth
Blowing out the candles on my 5th birthday
A gentle breeze wavering the flame on the last lit candle before it vanished
I remember crying for the first time
Reading my first book
Making a new friend
Dancing in the summer sun
We seemingly basked in the comforting heat
Lying under the trees
Sand between our feet
With light comes darkness
And with darkness; melancholic memories
I remember earning my first scar
My first bruise
My first cut
I remember lacing up a pair of skates
Taking my first fall on cold, solid ice
But with all the love from my family
The solicitude would suffice
I remember receiving my first award
Becoming so academically motivated
A smile on my face with every A I earned
I remember making the volleyball team
Then I graduated
I finished an old chapter and started anew
With every ambition behind a bittersweet story
As a person I grew
Now I am sixteen
An eleventh grader
Seems like just yesterday I was embraced in a blanket on a cold winters day
Frostbitten with rosy cheeks and frozen toes
The aroma of hot chocolate wafting in the air
So redolant and reassuring
Now here I am
Not as carefree, but not completely dispirited
I still have quite a journey ahead
But instead of following others
I am independent
Choosing to follow my own heart instead
But I have to admit
I will always remember these 16 sweet years
Mackenzie Lavallie is a grade eleven student in the STEP/Laptop program.