I was misguided and left to traipse
Devotion promised yet it escapes
It seems along the way I lost it
Through the tiniest of doubtful slits
And now, I am the one who is lost
I need to find someone or something
They can help replace what I’m missing
I am young and I am naïve
Tell me something I can believe
I have a passion that’s easily manipulated by a childs fashion
My passion is to stop bullying not only all over but in schools too
Stop these kids from thinking they’re cool when they’re just making themselves look like fools and tools
I seen a video where a girl got punched and lost her sight, i just sat there thinking “man that ain’t right”
Hit a girl and make her lose her sight? Better be careful or she just might just come back and try seek revenge
Or just pretend she’s your friend and do the same thing you did to her
My passion is to stop bullying
Make everybody see that no one person is the same but yet we are all different and part of life
Men! Lets show the young guys the right thing to do in life, to always be there and not bully their wife
Women! Lets show the girls what it means to be friends and not jump a girl over s boy that doesn’t care about either of you
That is bullying right?
Kids committing suicide like its murder
That’s not right. Kids should stay out of sight ready for the world and not have to take the wrong way out of life
My passion is to stop bullying and I will
Even if it takes me forever
Now, quiet this talk of darkness.
Trust me, the light is harmless.
In the night, my soul departed.
In the light, our love was started.
I never knew how quickly a life could be taken,
Until that night I could not awaken.
I can see you weep in the dark,
Sitting exposed and alone in a park
Detached entirely from the world around,
Left with only your sorrow, you have drowned.
I can see you now, lost in despair,
But your agony, I cannot bear.
To know that I am the fault of your woe,
Fills me with a pain I never thought I could know.
Do not cry for me a moment longer!
Surviving this will make you stronger.
You are young and have a long life to live.
So savor your life, as a gift I give
To you, my love, if you take it, I know
That one day soon your eyes will glow.
They’ll twinkle and sparkle with a brilliant shine.
And all the stars in the heavens will align.
Why do you still not listen?
Why do your blue eyes still glisten
With quiet tears? You still cry
And look longingly to the open sky.
But, if you are looking for me up there,
You will find I can be with you anywhere.
I am neither in heaven nor in hell,
Because here on Earth, I still dwell.
As a specter I guard you whenever you may need,
And my words, I pray, you must heed.
I know you can hear their voices too.
See their scrutinizing eyes following you.
They see on your arms the scars that you hide.
They see on your face the tears that have dried.
I know you do not want to die!
Please do not say goodbye,
To a life you have only just started!
You must go on, my dear, leave death’s path uncharted!
Do not die for missing me!
Please, listen to my plea!
Because of my surprising death,
You too are close to your last breath.
I cannot stand to bear the burden,
Of watching you draw the final curtain,
On your young life barely lived.
To save you now, my heart I would give.
And as your life is bleeding out,
I am quickly beginning to doubt
That there is any hope at all in life.
Perhaps we are all just doomed to unbearable strife.
For how could you, an angel alive,
Be suffering like this, so deprived
Of care and love, that I’ve always tried to give?
Why won’t you take it, love, and continue to live?
Look at the guardian angel I am.
Letting you go like this, I must be damned.
I was supposed to take care of you,
But even that, I could not do.
In death I had one duty,
To make sure no darkness touched your beauty.
And now you are dead!
The last ray of light has been shed.
What a pair we are, you and I!
Unable to live no matter how hard we tried.
Hand in hand, through the darkness we stroll,
Two young lovers who can never be whole.
Two lost souls who can never touch the light,
And cursed forever to wander the night.
Dedicated to Jason Kim. 1/1/97-3/3/14
By: Lili Duquette
Funny.
Smart.
Patient.
Forgiving.
Your best qualities.
Fast flowing tears
Falling down my cheeks.
Heartbroken.
Crushed.
Alone.
Gone.
That’s where you’ve disapeared.
Dead.
Passed on.
In a better place.
I can’t listen to my music
You’ve caused me this.
Depressed.
Crying.
Missing you.
I’ll see you again.
I love you.
I miss you.
“I’ll see you in NYC.”
Okay.
Melanie looked around the room, becoming aware of her surroundings. It was dark. The only light to see was beneath the crack of a door leading to who knows where? Where exactly was she anyways? Trying to stand, she let out an unintentional scream. Something was chaining her hands and feet to a wall. ‘What the Hell?’ was the was the first thought running through her mind. Instinctively, she started screaming, foolishly hoping someone would rush through the door to her rescue.
“Hello? Who else is here?”
A voice resounded off the damp moldy walls on the other side of the room, followed by what seemed to be a gruff older man’s voice and the soft breathing of a younger child.
“Someone, let us out! Please! We didn’t do anything!” Melanie screamed, and continued to scream until her voice ran hoarse.
Instantaneously, a light bright fluorescent light turned on, stinging her eyes it’s yellowish glare. Melanie knew whatever was going to happen next, it wouldn’t be too good. Looking over everyone else in the room, she noticed a middle aged, balding man on the wall in front of her. She guessed he was in his 50’s, probably with a moody teenage daughter, and an unhappily married wife. To the left, there lay what looked to be a 3 year old boy, still asleep from whatever drug their ‘host’ had given them. Tears started to well up i her eyes as she thought of the franti parents that must be missing him. There truly is no worse feeling than that of losing a child. Turning away, she looked up at the last wall to see the person laying there wasn’t chained up at all, but a gaunt pale faced man with the same blonde hair and blue eyes Melanie had. A cruel masochistic smile began to spread across the lower half of his face, and a long stocky body held it up.
“Now hello children I’m sure you’re all very curious as to why you’re here today. Not to worry though, I just want to play.”
‘Don’t say anything rash Melanie. For once, don’t try to be the hero.’ She must’ve repeated those lines among others in her head a thousand times before. “So…” Se spoke up, “What do you want to play?”
“I’m so glad you asked! Well you see, it’s my birthday! So we simply must plan a party!”
“Oh really? How old are you?” She awkwardly laughed, trying to play along with what the strange man psychopathic man was saying.
“The same age as you my Dear, 19! What a splendid number 19 is indeed!” The psychopath continued to say.
“Cut the crap, you lunatic! Just let me out of here!” The middle aged man finally spoke up.
“I have a name you know; and it is not lunatic, it is Henry.” In the next second, the middle aged man was dead.
Melanie could feel her eyes open wider at the psychopath as she tried not to scream. The 3 year old still slept, and it was probably for the best. They were already down one person, and she really couldn’t bear to see a toddler, of all people, brutally murdered.
“now,” the strange man finally spoke up, “as for that game…” The look that shrouded his eyes made Melanie’s blood freeze in her veins. “Don’t you just love hide and seek?”
“Hide…and seek?”
“Yes Darling, you have 1 hour to come and find me, or else.” He winked.
“Or else what?”
“Let’s just leave that part to your pretty little imagination.” That was the last memory Melanie could recall before everything went dark again.
When she awoke, she was in a new room. It had those mats they lay out in day care to protect the children from falling, all in an array of different colors on the floor. The walls were painted in a very nostalgic jungle style, with all different types of animals you’d see at a zoo smiling happily, unaware of the dangers happening in the real world. ‘This room…it looks incredibly familiar,’ Melanie thought; but right as she started to think about why it looked so familiar, a sharp pain rang out in her head, as if someone was sounding off a fire alarm. ‘No, no, no, my Dear,” the psychopath’s voice whispered softly in her mind, ‘we mustn’t return to these sad memories.’
“What sad memories? Why are you in my head? Who are you? Why do you know me so well?” Melanie’s voice trembled, afraid of the answers soon to come.
‘Darling, relax, all the answers will come in due time. Right now all you need to know is I’m on your side, I’ve always been on your side…’ And with that, the voice disappeared, and Melanie was forced to move on.
She walked through a door into another room. Each room was different, but all of them had the same creepy childlike appearance. ‘Who was this guy?’ Was she in some kind of Saw movie? As she moved through the rooms, each got a little darker. The delightful colors and different child characters started disappearing only to be replaced with horrifying demons and fire painted on the wall.
Pondering over these thoughts, she came upon a dead end; the last room in the creepy two storied building. It was white. Everything; the carpet, the walls, every last detail in the room was white. All except for one word painted in very small letters on the wall. Melanie. Why? Why was her name there? What had she done to deserve all of this? What was this guy trying to get at by doing this to her?
“Well, well, well, it looks like you’ve lost Melanie. Your time is up.” A voice approached her from the door.
“What are you going to do?” She tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat.
He pulled the body of a limp three year old from behind him, “What do you think?”
“No! Don’t kill him! Take me! My life is obviously more valuable to you, right? What are you trying to prove!” She screamed, falling to her knees.
“Oh Melanie, my sweet Melanie. What could I achieve from killing you? What could I achieve from killing someone who lost their sanity so long ago. In our heart you know who the real killer is. I’m nothing but a hallucination; a mere figment of your poor pathetic imagination.”
“But…but…but the chains! You kidnapped me! You killed that man, and you sent me on a walk through the rooms representing your life!”
“Did I? Was this really about me? Look again Melanie. The rooms, they were all painted according to YOUR life. The childhood you lost, the abuse you suffered every single day for the first 18 years of your life. The chains weren’t to protect you from me, they were to protect you from everyone else. You’re a monster Melanie, no more human than me.”
Suddenly, all of the lost memories she had been blocking out for oh so long came flooding back; the house she was in-her childhood house, her parents beating her, her boyfriend, the love of her life dying a brutal bloody death right before her eyes, and the murders, the murders of them all… She did it. They died because of her. Melanie had created this hallucination and blocked out those painful memories. She truly was insane, no more than a monster, a killer, a murderer.
“No! No! No! No! It can’t be true, it’s not true! Shut up!” She closed her eyes, preventing more tears from pushing through and walked forward. “You’re the monster, not me!” She pushed forward, not realizing what exactly she was doing, but knowing if she just got rid of this man, everything would be ok, and so…she strangled him. She watched with malice and satisfaction, as the man who had tortured her mind slowly took his last dying breaths.
“Melanie you’re the real killer. You’re the monster, who lost her sanity so long ago.” He smiled as he said that last sentence, knowing something she did not, and then just disappeared.
When she looked down, the body she was holding was not one of a man, but a little boy. She thought she had killed a demon, but the only thing dead was a 3 year old boy, along with the rest of her humanity.
Ere the break of day, the torch burned in hand.
The fire, deep red, tainted with their head.
The ash carried the story of him, and
reminded her of what was left unsaid.
Their home, like torches, burned throughout the night.
Determined by her unspoken desire,
He went out to destroy her only blight,
His ire, was hotter than the fire.
Only her whim gave him cause to be,
Bringing him out of his deep depression.
All these acts committed, she cannot see,
He felt truly close to his obsession.
From his depressing past, he was stressed,
Until all his feelings were meshed.
Under a Montana moon we met
He tried to kiss me, I slapped him twice
His hands were strong; but his voice was soft
For the first time when he whispered I love you
A true cowboy; subtle and simple
Man of the earth; ruddy and brown
His hands were strong; but his heart was soft
When he choked and said I do
He worked all day; his pay was dirt
We didn’t have much until God gave us you
His hands were strong, but his eyes were soft
When he first held you and said, her eyes are blue
His laughter was pure thunder, and his tears were cement
That temper couldn’t be matched by a Spanish bull
His hands were strong, but his hug was soft
When he shushed you and said, the monsters are gone
He loved like a fire, and fought like a tiger
And you were daddy’s little girl
His hands were strong, but his steps were soft
When he chased that boy with his shotgun
The love he gave was without measure
That loyalty put even guard dogs to shame
His hands were strong, but his tears were soft
When he quivered, I give her away
His face was hollow, and his hair was long gone
The disease had ravaged and mangled him, the IV ran through his face and arms
His hands were soft; but his voice was strong
As he whispered I’m still loving you
It was colder than I remember. The ground was soft and damp from the previous rainfall. The trees were bare and spring was far off. I walked forward with a bit of hurry and longing. I was coming home after spending years away. I had gone away to somewhere safe… My parents had made sure of that. I had been young then. They had said that things were becoming unsafe for many people… people like me. People were getting sick, really sick. Many were dying. My father had found out what was happening early on. He could tell something big was going to happen. He could see a correlation between those who were sick and those who weren’t. He heard the rumors. So they sent me to my Uncle and Aunt. They live in the middle of nowhere. They figured I would be safe there. I didn’t want to leave home and everything I had ever known; the vivid trees, the glowing stars, and the yellow daffodils. But my parents were being destroyed by worry, so I had gone. It’s been seven years since.
During those seven years I had heard news of the world I wasn’t a part of anymore. I heard how things were getting worse each day. The virus had exploded. The government later called it BL17. Uncle had told me it killed millions of people worldwide. Sooner or later the correlation that my father had guessed about was proven to be true. The disease naturally evolved. It caused a high fever. As the disease progressed one’s organs would all deteriorate, one by one. Death was inevitable.
Only one group of people held the genetic disease. They themselves were unaffected but they could spread it to others. Scientists found people in that particular group to have many differences: culture, age, height. But there was one trait that every carried had; hair color. All carriers had golden to yellow-white hair. Blonds were carriers and infected everyone else.
Eventually scientists had created a vaccine but by the time they had two-thirds of the world’s population was dead. Even though the epidemic was under control things only got worse. People were left without a family. There were barely any workers. With no plentiful stock of workers available companies could trade no product. The world was broke.
As time went by, things didn’t improve. As the government tried to come up with a quick solution to this catastrophe, resentment and anger festered inside the hearts of those who had lost someone. Their hunger for vengeance soon spread to others. Blonds were run out of their cities. Their homes were ransacked and some were trapped among the vengeful population, unable to escape. Those who were lucky enough fled into hiding and they haven’t been seen since.
All the while, my Uncle, Aunt, and I have been leaving peacefully where no one could see our disgraceful yellow hair. We farmed for food and listened to the old radio. There was only one channel that connected with the one at home. I was able to hear my father’s voice over the static, describing the chaos happening in the outside world. I reached out to the unfortunate world through the windows. I remember each night I would look out to see the faint silhouette of mountains in the distance. Those were the times I had been especially homesick. Until a few months ago everything was going smoothly. But then I had heard something I wasn’t supposed to hear. I had come down because I had heard a noise. I sneaked downstairs where I saw Uncle sitting gravely by the fireplace listening to the radio. I thought it was strange that he would be up so late listening to the radio. Besides, we never got any messages this late. But I was wrong. He hadn’t seen me and I stood in the shadows listening to the radio that was not silent as I had expected. My older brother, Elek’s voice was quiet over the radio. He was whispering. He had said mother was sick, father was dying of worry, and that food was scarce. I had to go home and take care of them.
I had declared to my Aunt and Uncle that I would go to them. At first, they would hear none of that and refused. So I snuck out on foot. I only lasted three days before I was out of food and energy. Uncle drove out and eventually found me and took me back. I tried again several times, each with a larger supply of food hoping it would be enough to last the whole voyage. But it was never enough. It was too far to go on foot. But I persisted. Uncle and Aunt eventually came to terms that I would kill myself trying to go. So they sent word to my family saying that I was on my way. Aunt made food for the trip and Uncle drove me. The drive had lasted 10 days in total. When we were just outside the city limits he gave me a wig, one similar to his own. It may have looked shabby but it was most definitely brown.
We drove to the train station; the wig firmly placed over my head and especially my hair. The train ride had gone smoothly, or at least as smoothly as it could under the circumstances. I kept to myself and when my stop arrived I got out as silently as I could. I had walked until I was out of the city, walking down a lone road each step coming closer to home. Now that I was here I walked with anticipation to see them again.
I looked down at the bouquet of daffodils I held. I had specifically gotten them to take to my family. It was winter now and there were none in bloom. So I felt it would be a heartwarming gift of warm times to come.
After a while, I saw a figure in the distance walking towards me. For a moment I was scared but then I thought that it was only one man anyway. As he came closer I saw a face familiar to one I had seen six years earlier. Then, I heard someone call out my name.
“Karina!” I blinked but my eyes did not betray me. It was Elek, practically a full grown man. I ran to him and embraced his wide shoulders. We laughed and I felt as though I were already home. “I’ve missed you!” I laughed into his ear. He smiled. As we walked later he told me he had come every day as soon as he heard I was coming. He wanted to guide me home. He told me that we would have to go through a town in order to get to the cottage. I didn’t mind much. I had already done that once before without incident.
The town buildings slowly came into view. As we came nearer I found myself a little more nervous. I made sure my wig was on properly. As we reached the outskirts a chill surged through me. I stood where I was and thought of any other way we could go. There was no way around the town unless we wanted to freeze to death climbing the mountain. It appeared that there was no other way; we could have to go through. I we neared the town my heartbeat went a little faster. As we went deeper, there were much more people milling around. The town was cold and gloomy. The sky seemed white and there were no clouds in view.
I touched my wig making sure it was still in place. But I didn’t want to draw any attention to my head. So, as invisibly as we could, I sneaked through the swarm of people now surrounding me. A new wave of fear swept through me again and again as I met the eyes of person after person. I gripped the yellow daffodils closer to my chest feeling that their obnoxious color was attracting too much attention. Elek was holding me closely, pulling my arm gently leading me through the crowd. His jaw was tight and his eyes were attentive.
As a few minutes passed I relaxed a little. No one was paying us much attention and I felt as if this town was no different from the previous city. I was beginning to believe that we would walk right through with no problems. I looked up at the buildings around me. They weren’t too tall. They were mainly white but this didn’t make the town any more cheerful. Over all, it was a very dirty town.
I looked up to see if we would soon be out of the town limits. I met a man’s eyes. He didn’t look much different from the rest: scruffy, unclean, and tired. I felt a touch of sympathy for these people. They probably lived in these terrible conditions looking for food anywhere available while the whole world was in ruins.
“Hey, you!” The man was pointing to me accusingly. Panic wrapped itself around me heart and I froze in place. The man marched towards me. For a moment he stood there glaring at me. Then he reached forward and twisted a strand of my blond hair around his fingers. I gasped in fear. Everyone was looking at us now. They had discovered me.
“She’s a Blondie!” He yelled towards the crowd. He ripped the wig off my head revealing my odious blonde hair. I heard a few gasps.
“Look, she’s wearing a wig, trying to cover up her shame, pretending to be one of us!” I met judgmental eyes in whatever direction I looked. The man drew closer screaming into my face.
“After all of what your kind has done to us, and you try to sneak in among us, to trick us!?” I heard people agreeing.
“Your kind ruined everything!” Again I heard yells of approval. “You killed my daughter, you know that? You’ve killed everyone!” I could feel his spit splatter on my face. I heard others cry out other family members of theirs who had been killed by BL17.
Elek stepped in front of me. “Lay off her man,” he said as he pushed the man away.
“Don’t touch me, traitor!” He pushed Elek back. As soon as Elek’s fist hit the man’s face the crowd instantly broke out into raucous uproars. They swarmed us. I was grabbed by dozens of hands. I saw the wig fall wistfully to the ground where it was trampled by the mob’s feet seconds later.
They pushed and shoved and I felt like my body wasn’t in my control anymore. From the corner of my eye I saw Elek being flooded by hands in fists. I called out to him but there was no reply. The world swayed around me and all I could hear were the voices; the passionate voices filled with hatred and disgust. The daffodils were wrenched from my fingers. I felt hands tears at my clothes and I could barely hear the rip of cloth over the trembling roar around me. My skin was exposed to the cold air and I held on to any clothes I could. I felt people pull at my hair, the root of their abhorrence. I felt the ground below me. They shoved my face into the mud. It seemed to suck me in and in that moment I would have gladly let it. As the world seemed to ravage me my mind faded in and out. I remembered a distant yet persistent memory from years ago.
It had been a few weeks before I had decided to leave home. It was at night when everyone was asleep. I had heard a strange noise coming from my parent’s room. I had silently walked to their door where I spied on them through the small crease in the doorway. My mother had been lying on the bed sobbing. Her face was red and swollen from the tears. My father had been consoling her without success. She had cried to my father, why I, out of the whole family, was given such a burden; the burden of having glowing blond hair, like my grandmother had had. Now I resurface to the present: the turbid ground, the cold, white sky looming above me, the grimy daffodils now scattered on the ground, their lively color gone. I wish I could just disappear, better yet have a different hair color. I use the little strength I have left to pick up my head. Among the crowd a singular old woman is walking among them carving a path in her wake. People cheer when she arrives and I don’t realize why until I see what she is carrying in her hand. Gleaming silver scissors find themselves to my hair. The old woman roughly takes me hair and chops off any bit she can find. She doesn’t bother to make sure to keep the scissors away from my scalp. The yells turn into hoorahs and now I only see smiles around me, gleaming teeth not too different from the gleaming scissors. When that’s over I feel my body being carried by unmerciful hands. I barely process the town around me. I then feel myself being tossed into the air where afterwards I feel the hard ground collide directly with my hip bone. The inside of me shrieks in pain but I only manage to release a desperate gasp. I hear retreating of footsteps and I know that it’s over. But deep down inside of me I also know it’s not.
We laid there for who knows how long. Dad eventually came looking for us out of worry. He found me practically naked and covered in a combination of mud streaks and injuries. Elek was worse, covered in blood. My head is bare of any hair and my skin bare of any life. For a moment he fears the worse but then he sees that I am breathing and so is Elek. I’m not sure what happened between then and when I woke up at home. Father was standing around me. He gently asks us if we’re alright. I try to tell him we are but I soon find that my lips tremble uncontrollably and before I can restrain them, loud wails escape from within me and echo throughout the cottage. They sound like the wails of a dying animal, but then again a part of me has died. I realize the enormity of what has happened to me… and I was one of the lucky ones. I survived but I know I will never be the same. This discovery strikes me as hard as their fists.
Some people want to change the world.
But why? It’s only one world, and it’s very dark.
They may burn bright for an instant
But the dark will swallow them whole.
And what have they done?
Become the light for an angler fish,
life, rearing its ugly face
Welcoming fish into its gently smiling jaws.
I don’t want to change the world.
I want to change somebody’s life.
Refill their empty cup to overflowing
With promise for the future.
Why a single life?
You underestimate the soul.
Inside of every heart lay countless worlds
Each and every one primed, ready
Still dark,
But not burnt out; waiting,
For a spark.
Ruby’s Story
Dictated to and Written Down By Quasimodo
A Retelling of The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Jehan likes to tell this story quite a lot, but nobody ever cares to hear my side of things. Simple, sweet, kind, loving, adorable little Ruby never gets any of the attention. I am Esmeralda’s best friend afterall, I think I am more important to the so called “myth” than most writers tend to believe. Everybody knows about the love story between the hideous hunchback (what, it’s true) and the beautiful Esmeralda. She had all the luck with the guys of Paris, she even had Captain Phoebus oohing and ahhing over her, and who does she chose to marry?! Anyway, everybody focuses on her love for the hunchback but the really juicy stories come before that in the days when we were growing up.
I grew up in the slums of Paris, a gypsy, just a piece of dirty filth in the eyes of the rich and church going folk. Our home was nicknamed The Court of Miracles, because many of our people would fake ailments and injuries in order to beg on the streets, but upon returning to the slums the act was cast off and forgotten; the beggers would be “miraculously healed”. We were a people persecuted by the church, and therefore by the government. It was not because of anything we had done that the government hated us so much, but it was because of our heritage and our class. We were proud to call ourselves outcasts though, afterall, we didn’t have to pay taxes.
When I was just learning to walk my father left my mom and I. He was missing for two whole years before he showed up dead. Mother was always very weak, so as soon as I could walk a straight line I was in the streets trying to get a spare crust of bread or whatever I could manage to steal in order to get by. Then, one day, I spotted this really cute brunette boy pickpocketing an old woman. It was quite a sight to see, he was barely taller than her knees, yet his hand reached up to her pockets and swiped out several nice silk handkerchiefs and even a couple coins.
Immediately I was certain that he was the one for me. He would teach me his trade and maybe even plant a kiss if I was lucky. I followed him around for the rest of the day, trying to inch closer and closer to him when he wasn’t looking. The sun began to set, and my eyelids began to droop. We had wandered right up to the Notre Dame cathedral, I was far from home. Before I fully realized what I was doing I was fast asleep against the wall of the cathedral. The evening bells rang strong and clear but sounded distant in the tired haze of my head.
I awoke the next morning, I awoke to find myself back in The Court of Miracles. There was some bread lying on a little table. At once I sprung to my feet and grabbed the crust of bread and took a big bite of it. Although it was hard, and smelled as though it had been lying around for several days the burst of flavor in my mouth was like sweet music is to the ears. It was harmony to my stomach which so rarely had the treat of a whole crust of bread in one sitting.
“Ralentis! Slow down there! There’s more where that came from. In fact I’ve nicked much better things from vendors.” A squeal escaped my lips as I turned and saw the boy I had followed the whole previous day. “It’s dangerous sleeping so close to the cathedral you know… I brought you back here, what if that young priest Claude Frollo had spotted you there. His brother Jehan may be nice enough to us gypsies but Frollo sure isn’t. Just think what terrors may happen if that man ever becomes the head bishop of that place.”
That day was the start of a whole new life for me. The boy, Clopin, taught me how to survive on the streets. A couple years after I met him my mother passed. There was no time for mourning, the slums were dangerous, and life was a daily struggle, so I just had to provide for myself, and my new thieving partner (though truth be told I believe he provided more for me than I ever did for him). Three years after my mother’s death there was a new addition to our party. You’ve probably guessed who, it was Esmeralda! She was orphaned and Clopin found her on the streets, much like he did me. I was so excited to have a sister, we could fix up fancy hairdos for each other, discuss guys, and all sorts of other girly things that I could never do with Clopin. By this point in time my crush on Clopin was over, he never showed any interest in me, so my gaze had shifted to some of the other young men of the court.
Esmeralda wasn’t a very good pickpocket at all, but what we did find was that she was an extremely talented singer. Clopin, always the business man, came up with the idea of us putting together a little act for the Festival of Fools. Esmeralda would sing, I would play my tambourine and we all would dance. As we grew older the crowds began to like our act more and more, and as we gained experience the act got more and more elaborate. That is what put us on stage at the Festival of Fools where we meet you Quasimodo. Directly after our act we discovered that the Pope of Fools had already been selected. Never had we seen a more hideous face, it was a hands down election.
The festivities were better than ever. There was lots of drink, and nothing to worry about since the laws didn’t apply. We could go where we liked and do whatever we pleased! Clopin and I came up with a new dance for this year’s entertainment, which was loads of fun, with lots of lifts and drops! I even met these two guys who were really sweet and cute. Usually only Esmeralda gets all the attention from the guys, but these two men carried me about on their shoulders. They were so handsome. Unfortunately, I was so surprised by their attention that I forgot to ask their names (though I did later find out that the taller one’s name was Jehan). Now that I look back on it they were probably just hitting on me because of the holiday and not because of genuine interest. Only Esmeralda was lucky enough to actually have guys that were in love with her.
The festivities however are where the actions began, and all on account of you too I might add Quasimodo. You started speaking hideous riddles, standing up there poking fun at us lawbreakers. That was what made the riot break out and then Claude Frollo came out of his Cathedral barking orders at dear Phoebus to clear the streets. Esmeralda got the hairbrained idea that she should go defend you, and got herself knocked to the ground by that villainous monster, Frollo. The way he glared at us, as though he were sending daggers of ice through our flesh just by looking at us, sent shivers down my spine. The only good that came out of that riot was that I got to meet the handsome captain, and sure I guess it was good that you and Esmeralda got together, but I still think Phoebus would have been a better match for her; he may be a coward, but he is so handsome, it makes up for his cowardice. Anyway, you got your hide beaten raw Quasimodo, and stupid Esmeralda decided to get right up in the thick of things to try to defend you. Claude Frollo doesn’t need a reason besides your being a gypsy to want to kill you but Esmeralda sure gave him one.
I gave Esmeralda some really wise advice that day. I told her she had no right to go in that looming cathedral and that she was hairbrained to think she would find any sort of warm reception there. I suppose I was slightly wrong about the warm reception part, but believe me, if she had bumped into Frollo she would not have lived to tell me she was sorry for not listening. Right after I gave up trying to convince her to stay away from Notre Dame I received one of the greatest shocks of my life. Captain Phoebus, who remains today to be the most handsome man I have ever met, came up to talk to us, well to Esmeralda. Never before had I seen such perfect blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. His manner was so official, yet there was this sort of warmth about him. My eyes were not yet done feasting on his beauty as Esmeralda drug me off and ordered me to return to the Court of Miracles so she could go to the cathedral in peace.
I was lucky however that I knew where Esmeralda was headed, because Clopin called a meeting and wondered where she was. It gave me the perfect excuse to sneak out and find Phoebus, I mean if she was just interested in the hunchbacked man then at least I could have a shot at the drop dead gorgeous one! However, when I returned I found Esmeralda with not only the Captain, but two other very charming young men. It took forever for Esmeralda to convince me that she had actually been to see you rather than just staying with those beautiful men. It didn’t help her case that Phoebus offered her a beautiful white flower every single time they met in the streets.
Just when I thought the day could not get any more exciting (after all I had seen three incredibly handsome and available young men), the events of Clopin’s meeting unfurled. Phoebus’ friends Jehan and Pierre thought it would be good fun to sneak into the Court of Miracles. Clopin doesn’t take very kindly to visitors, especially during meetings. Of course, he had the guys bring out the ropes and started threatening to hang them. This was very distressing. Esmeralda kept warning me that Clopin was very serious about killing them, but I just was so distracted by their presence.
Finally Clopin gave them an offer to actually join our band of thieves. In order to become an outlaw like us they had to sing and dance the gypsy song and dance, and best our most accomplished singer and dancer. I thought they were absolutely wonderful, but everyone else did not seem to be of the same mind, so I decided to sneak over to the cute dark haired one and helped him out by tangoing with him. Unfortunately, the playwright was not doing well without my help. He was sprawled on the ground so I ran over to him and pulled him into a straight tango step. Much to my relief, Clopin announced that they were accepted into our company! Everyone went wild, dancing around us, and there they were, Jehan and Pierre, standing right next to me.
The next few moments were all a blur. I remember one moment the guys were there beside me, and the next they were running full speed through the streets being pursued by Clopin and some of the other men. Screams of “ils échappent” rung throughout the court and I clung tightly to Esmeralda’s arm. I felt sure that Clopin would catch them, and that they would be hung for sure. Fortunately, however, Clopin soon returned from his chase, without prisoners. I was relieved that Jehan and Pierre had escaped safely, but nonetheless I vowed not to speak to Clopin because of the way he treated Jehan and Pierre.
The next day I awoke and found that Esmeralda was gone. She had probably gone back to the cathedral. Her visits there had been more and more frequent. I tried to go about my day as I normally, did, but I couldn’t get my mind off of Jehan and Pierre. Clopin must have scared them to death. I had to be sure that they were ok, so I started searching through the city in hopes that I would find them. I searched for hours, but to no avail, so I headed towards the cathedral thinking I would bump into Esmeralda and see if she had seen them.
I found her right where I thought I would, and asked her about the boys. I told her that I loved them both, and wanted to be sure they were alright. She kept telling me that love didn’t work like that, and that I had to choose one of them, but I didn’t listen, they were both so handsome. I knew it would simply be impossible to choose which one I was in love with. Then, Esmeralda pulled out a beautiful white flower from behind her back. I screamed with delight, at last she had accepted one of Phoebus’s flowers! Esmeralda actually had plans to see him, and his lovely golden locks. Oh, what an extraordinary day, my best friend accepted a flower from the most handsome man in all of Paris! Now, if only Esmeralda could have convinced Jehan or Pierre to give me a flower like that, then it would have been an even better day.
Together, we eventually found the boys. Esmeralda advised them to stay away from The Court of Miracles, at least until Clopin cooled down, and probably long after that as well, Clopin was not a very forgiving man. To my delight they asked us to join them again soon for a night out in the town, as friends of course, and they told Esmeralda how excited they were that she finally accepted Phoebus’s flower, apparently he had not joined them on their nights out around the city, for weeks, because he was so upset over Esmeralda not accepting him. When we parted that day, there was a skip in my step and a gigantic smile spread across my face. .
The next day however, everything turned around. Esmeralda had once again left the court early, before I awoke, so I was on my own to wander the streets and try to pick a pocket or two. Suddenly I saw Jehan running toward me, with Pierre close behind. They asked me if I had seen Esmeralda and started telling me the most horrible things, about some orders Claude Frollo had given Phoebus. He wanted The Court of Miracles cleared. All our homes were to be burnt and we were to be arrested and killed. Without so much as a word, I started running as fast as my legs would carry my to the cathedral, the guys following after me. As we got closer to the Cathedral we stuck in the shadows.
At last we were right up against the Cathedral. We quietly began discussing what we could do. It would not be safe to just burst into the Cathedral, Frollo could be anywhere in there, but we had to find Esmeralda. Suddenly I saw her slipping out of a door of the Cathedral, so I ran to her and and tried to pull her away and to safety, while explaining, in words that became rather unintelligible due to my rush to say them, that we had to hide, and get away. Jehan took over trying to explain the situation, but Esmeralda would not hear of it. She insisted that she had to help, that she wouldn’t leave people to suffer if she could do anything to help. She began forcing herself away from us, despite all our pleas for her to come with us. Suddenly she escaped from Jehan and Pierre’s grasp and ran right into Phoebus. She began furiously beating on his chest and shouting at him for even thinking about following Frollo’s orders.
Phoebus however assured her that nothing had happened. He told us how you, Quasimodo, had come and stopped everything. He had pleaded with Frollo, but when Frollo insisted that Phoebus carry out the orders, he grabbed Frollo by the throat and threw him to the ground. Frollo seemed to forget his wish to kill all the gypsies, but had ordered that Esmeralda be found and arrested. I told her that it was too risky visiting the Cathedral, now Frollo recognized her, and knew how much you Quasi, cared for her, so she was in danger. She would still not listen to us however, and now insisted on trying to find you, Quasimodo.
It was then, that Claude Frollo found us. He threatened Phoebus, telling him that he would have to choose between his job and Esmeralda. Frollo would not take Phoebus defending her however, and pulled a gun from within his robes. The boys pushed Esmeralda behind them, and I clung to her arm, and tried to drag her further from the weapon. We were cornered, with no way of escape. Slowly Frollo walked forwards towards Esmeralda, using the gun to scare the guys from in front of her. It was just me and her left, the gun pointed directly at us. I closed my eyes preparing to jump in front of Esmeralda, but before I could act, she pushed me away, and Pierre firmly held me back. Tears began to stream down my face, as I turned my face away, unable to look on helplessly.
Suddenly Frollo was knocked to the ground and the gun was in Jehan’s hand. You, Quasimodo, the hunchback, had come to the rescue. Despite being beaten, Frollo refused to just let Esmeralda go. He declared that no matter where she hid, he would search for her and find her. Quasi then stood up, and ran to Esmeralda, who he picked up and ran to the bell tower of the Cathedral. We heard him shout “Sanctuary, we claim sanctuary” from the top of the cathedral. By law, they were safe.
For days we waited. Frollo had the cathedral surrounded by guards; if Esmeralda took but one step outside the cathedral then she would be his. The waiting was terrible. Everyone was unable to rest. Even Clopin forgot his quarrel with Jehan and Pierre. This could not continue forever. Someone would have to give in, and we knew how dedicated Frollo could be, especially when it came to killing gypsies. The days passed by and we tried to come up with a plan. At last we figured out something to try. Jehan still had the gun that Frollo had tried to use that terrible day, and one of the guards was a drinking buddy of his. He would try to sneak in and reason with Frollo, afterall Frollo was his brother.
The day came to execute the plan. Jehan snuck in as Phoebus, Pierre, Clopin and I waited outside. The plan to reason, did not go well, at least for Frollo. Jehan shot his brother that night, but we were free at last from the looming threat of Claude Frollo. Esmeralda lost all interest in Phoebus that day. She could not find it within herself to respect a cowardly man who valued orders above the lives of others. She ended up eventually marrying you, Quasimodo and left the court. Jehan decided to quit running from the church, especially now that his brother was gone, and became a bishop. Phoebus retired from his job as captain of the guard, and took up other work. As for me, well, I simply couldn’t go on without my handsome man. It took a few years, but eventually Pierre got brave enough to propose. He was so cute; he wrote a whole play for the occasion.
We all had our share of trouble in those dark days, and our lives are far from perfect even now. But both Esmeralda and I would attest to the fact that we favor our married lives over that which we had before. Times of trouble are always existent, and back then we had each other, our friendship to help us through. Now we had not only our friendship, but a husband who cares and can help provide. The life of honest work is harder in some ways, but in others it is much better. We may have to pay taxes now, but at least the threat of the gallows no longer looms over our heads.
Creative Writing II/Creative Writing II Honors 
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