In a Place of Miracles
By: Corinne Renee Fowler
& Elizabeth Leblanc
Once there was a young woman who won the hearts of a knight, a dark minister and a lonely bell ringer with just a single dance and a flask of water. But before that, Esmeralda was just a little girl when she realized that she and her family were not like the other people in Paris. After all, they were gypsies. Life was destined to be hard for her. She knew that, and accepted it. Because, what else was she going to do, fight it? It would be a losing battle. That didn’t stop her from enjoying herself whenever she decided to mess with the soldiers every once in a while. One of her favorite pastimes were dancing in front of them, while her friends would pick their pockets. It was hilarious! Despite the label of “gypsy” that she’d been given by those who judged her unfairly, she had lived her whole life in Paris. Or that’s how it seemed. When she was six years old, she and her mother had traveled to Paris through the catacombs underground. But that seemed like a lifetime ago now! She doesn’t even remember where she came from anymore. There was very little that she could remember from her time before her life in Paris.
By: Corinne Renee Fowler & Elizabeth LeBlanc
Three powerful women of the mightiest kingdom have at long last been freed from evil spells which had been cast on them. After months of endless slumber, two had finally gotten married and went off to their new kingdoms. The third, after being trapped in a tower entangled with her yards of golden tresses, had finally been set free and reunited with her mother and father. She, too, had gotten married. The three had lived happily ever after. Their names are Princess Marie, Princess Rapunzel, and Princess Charlotte Anne of the ever proud Schönheit, a land of beauty and strength. Both of which qualities signified all three princesses whom had survived all and persevered. It stood over a massive village and neighbored another kingdom called Swan Lake.
What was my favorite Christmas tradition?
Well, I don’t have one in particular. I used to love everything when I was little: caroling throughout the neighborhood, making Christmas cards out of construction paper, writing letters to Santa Claus… I loved it all. That was because most of my memories come from my father, David. Nobody loved Christmas like he did. He would pile up the mountain of presents all around the tree. It was so big that it could have been Mount Everest… at least to a my four-year-old self. My father was amazing at Christmas.
By: Corinne Renee Fowler
High school is tough. Actually, high school flat-out sucks. Here I was, in English class, trying to read Beowulf for about the twentieth time. I liked my English teacher, Mr. Hawkins, because A, because he was a babe, and B, he was a writer, and a damn good one. Last year, before I took his class, I read a short story he wrote in the newspaper, and I thought, “Wow, this guy is an amazing writer!” But here I was, reading another version of Beowulf. We had already read the original epic poem. Then, we read a play aloud. Now, we were reading a short story on Beowulf, and I still didn’t understand what the hell was going on. I heard there was a movie that just came out, like, ten years ago, but I had no intention of watching it, because, more than likely, it was going to be just as tedious and boring as reading three different versions of it was. Why did we have to read three different versions of the same story anyway? What was the point of that? Did that make any sense? Nope, not to me, anyway.