Works by Session Four in the Morning

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The waves washed up the shore, bringing with them an unknown girl to the island. Her sun-bleached hair draped onto the ground like so many pieces of dripping seaweed and her flawless skin was radiant in the bright sunlight. She was more beautiful than anyone that the villagers had ever seen, and so they clamored around her, waiting for her to wake up. When at last her eyes were open, she seemed to pierce their souls with her icy blue irises. All stepped back as she shed her cloak of helplessness and donned a regal air. She pulled herself to a sitting position.
“Where am I?” she asked with a soft, lyrical yet demanding voice. But the villagers were struck speechless by her sea-green fishtail which they viewed as a horrible deformity. The mermaid saw their shock and called down the power of the heavens to burn out the eyes of all that viewed her there.
“And that’s why your eyes are cloudy,” the small child said. “Right, Grandpa?”
“Yes, yes it is…” mumbled the elderly man as he drifted off to sleep. “It sure is.”
“Mom!” the boy cried. “Grandpa’s asleep!” Quickly, the mother hushed him and ushered him from the old man’s deathbed.
Isabel Ammendolia

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When she lost it, she knew things were over. It had been a gift from him for when she graduated. She’d worn it for two weeks straight, taking it off only to shower and sleep. But afterwards, after that summer, it stayed hidden in her bedside table, the small silver chain wound around the white ceramic. And there it had stayed, through Christmases and weddings, her little brother’s own graduation (he had gotten a watch), until he fell. She hadn’t been the one that found him, that had been Daniel, she remembered, but sometimes she felt that she should have been. After all, she had been in the hammock at the time, should have heard him yell when his foot slipped, should have heard the thud when he landed in the agapanthus they’d planted together when she was thirteen. No one said it to her, but she knew that’s what they were all thinking. They all came to see him when the doctors opened his room to visitors the next day. She wore it that day, around her neck, just the way she used to. But it didn’t make a difference. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, or they would have, had they not been closed.
Georgina Coffey

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The stay and talk to the soul
in the bed
it’s not me,
but I would gladly take the place
not to have to watch
someone you love fall deeper
and deeper away
from healing
from saving himself
from the addiction
that takes away pieces
of the humanity he once
had so much of
part of his family
wishes they could be anywhere
but here
but they stay for fear of never
seeing him alive again,
then again begging for pain meds
so desperate for them,
isn’t very alive in itself
just the same face,
on a different person
so many unspoken words
that are clearly understood
I leave with goodbyes
knowing that with him
each one could be the last
nothing will change
unless everyone changes
and that is
impossible
Sammy DeShazo

excerpt from The City of Gold
…They both listened, hearing a kind of beeping noise.
“Alarm!” Barrio said, as they moved toward the window.
Too late.
Security burst in through both doors, repeaters and revolvers all pointed at Taren and Barrio.
“Smoke bombs.” Barrio whispered. Taren nodded; he shook his shoulders and small pellets went everywhere. The popped and fizzed, creating smoke that filled the entire room. By the time it had cleared, there was a gaping hole in the window and Taren and Barrio were gone.
Ben Humphries

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I remember sand mountains.
I remember the pain of a soccer ball
launched at my five-year-old head.
I remember hating vegetables.
I remember my hair in one big braid.
I remember sharing a chocolate with my big brother.
I remember the stiff feeling of uniforms.
I remember my father before he died.
I remember cats, lots and lots of cats.
I remember liking the color pink, my childhood obsession.
I remember always being different.
Keyko Regalado

The Flood
No way was I taking a bath, or a shower, for that matter. That’s why I’m glad I escaped when I did. Mum had dressed me in my pants and a colored, button-down shirt; it was blue and plaid and Christie like it. Then again, Christie was my best friend, not my girlfriend like people thought but my best friend. So she liked lots about me. But still, I liked my outfit and I wasn’t about to take it off.
Slipping away from my mm was hard though. I had to get away. So once she let go of he death-grip hold on my hand, I bolted. I don’t know how I did it, but I made it downtown. Now I am water-free.
Slowly, I looked around me. I needed to take into account that people take kids like me: alone. That’s when I started to notice something quite peculiar as I straightened my back an tried to look like a 10-year old, big kid: downtown was leaking; water dripped and ran everywhere.
I’d heard of something called car-muah. I thought it was kissing cars, but apparently, as I’d been told yesterday it’s when things happen because you do something. So the world wants me to have a shower? Do I smell that bad? Well apparently so.
I felt my stomach drop as I watched the water drip from exposed pipes like a man with a bladder problem, like grandpa and not me yet. I quickly darted down the next street I saw. Whilst walking down this street, I heard the tingy drip of water again. This time it comes from one old, cheap air conditioning unit. the water dripped out the bottom, down the side of the brick building.
Now running, I raced down the next street and the lawn exploded with water. It flew into the air and stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t want a flood I’d heard of the blue torrents streaming in. And I relented.
I ran through the exploding lawn; salty water was already streaming down my face. And I was wet.
Cyan Sada

Daddy's Surprise
Alice felt right at home in the dimly lit room with eerie paintings on the walls. Her face lit up with the anticipation of seeing something so amazing and so breath taking, it was eating away at her soul. A virgin to adventure, her face remained calm. Maybe if you excavated enough you might find the smallest trace of a smile peeking out of the corner of her mouth. She looked around at the several paintings on the wall. Some of sorrow, some of pain, none of happiness, all just depressing and they brought no life to the small room in which Alice inhabited. She never left this room, not once in her entire life. Alice’s father came daily to bring her food and a new book. reading was her passion it was something that she always desired. she had read of so many things that she had never even heard of, but yet she lived for the knowledge of these things. She took a glance at the clock. It was now twelve o’clock and her father should be arriving any minute, not just with food and a book but with something he would not tell her about. “It’s a surprise!” he said. Her father knew her so well she could only imagine the amount of joy this “Surprise” would bring her. He fidgeted in her seat. It was now 12:15 and she was becoming impatient. She began to pace, wondering if her father had forgotten his only daughter. She sat down on her bed and began to think. Thinking of music, something she had never heard before, she thought of animals all of which she had never seen before. “Why am I so scared to leave this place?” she asked her self. She quickly got up and flung her bedroom door open. Without hesitation she ran from her room, to the front door and stepped outside. She felt the warm sun on her face and her hair bellowing in the breeze. She looked down to find a note. Alice quickly unfolded the note that read
“Dear Alice
Surprise! My gift to you is the outdoors. Now that you’ve discovered the beauty of such a thing, I doubt you will ever leave. I hope you have enjoyed your time away from your room. Now go do something, an adventure awaits you.

- Dad”
Madalyn Saunders

Free Soup, Anyone?
Everyone knows that bad spirits hide themselves inside of trees. What surprised Ada is that this spirit was hidden in her soup. Had it leapt from one of her wooden spoons? Or perhaps from the cedar cutting board? For almost a month now the soup persisted in turning out rotten. No matter how much she tended the pot, its contents always curdled or grew putrid. Ada even tried all new cookware and had a gas stove put in. One late afternoon, Ada was having tea with her grandmother in the swamp. “Look at this beautiful place around you,” cawed Nana,“This gorgeous world, abundant with life. What is there to be sad about?” Ada fiddled with a button that was hopping off of her skirt. “My Soup!” Ada exclaimed, “What can I do for it?” She had spent a good part of their time together ranting about the awful ghost invading her meals. “Ha! laughed Nana, giggling at the crocodile biting on an oar not three feet from where she sat. What I wouldn’t give for a few spirits to inhabit my kitchen. This is the most excitement I’ve had all week. Bring it to me. Bring me the soup…”
Megan Strickland

Emilio Changed into a Dog
He’d lived so long with just his dogs, that at last Emilio became on of them. He didn’t know how it happened. Emilio just woke up one morning and went to the bathroom, only to find that the mirror was way up high. He walked to his tall mirror hanging on the wall instead. When he glanced in the mirror and saw what happened, he screamed. At least the thought he screamed. Instead all that came out was a woof. His mother called up the stairs, “Emilio quiet your dogs and come downstairs for breakfast.” “Uh-oh”, Emilio thought. “I can’t go downstairs like this or my mother will freak out. Or she wouldn’t even know that it was me. She would just assume it was another one of my dogs. But she’ll soon realize that I am not in the house, but I actually am. In dog form. I’m going to stay in my bed, until she comes upstairs to find me.” So he did. A couple of minutes later, Emilio heard his mother’s footsteps coming up the stairs and saw his mother peak into his bedroom. She took one look at him and screamed. Then she sat, trembling, next to him on the bed. His mom said, “Oh, Emilio. I know that is you in dog form. Don’t ask how I know. I don’t want to tell you the story. He had an idea. Even though he couldn’t write using his hands, he decided to try by using his mouth. He got pen and paper, sat down, and took the pen in his mouth. He used his paw to move the paper in front of him, and held the piece of paper while he wrote. He wrote, “You can tell me mom. I want to know how I woke up one morning, looked into the mirror, and found myself staring at a dog that appears to be me!”
Nola Zhang