Posted in 2015-2016, Lifestyle

Facing the Unthinkable

pug

By Derek Frazier 

Scrappy Frazier the Pug passed away March 10th, 2016. May his memory never be replaced in the hearts of his family. Rest in peace old friend. (A continuation of Man’s Best Friend”)

“Scrappy isn’t feeling so well today.” My mother told me as we drove home from the grocery store. “He had another accident and his breathing isn’t good. I’m sorry for having this conversation in the car but… frankly I don’t know what else to do.”

I could feel the tears slide down my face as I heard the pain in my mother’s voice. Each salty tear drying and melting into my flesh. In my mind I thought to myself I need to be brave, I need to be brave and strong for my mother and little sister. Scrappy had been having accidents with his footing and breathing for the last few weeks, each attack was like a seizure and they were growing more frequent. This left my mother with few options and a feeling of helplessness. Those who have read any of my work will know just how much this dog meant to me, and for those who didn’t I will ask you to visualize in your head the relationship Timon had with Pumba in Disney’s The Lion King.

When we got home from the store, I grabbed a bag of groceries, a carton of milk from my mom’s car and dropped it off on the kitchen table. I had grabbed two more bags and had made it halfway to the garage door when I heard my mother gasp “I can’t do this… I can’t do this.” She was sitting on kneeling in front of the kennel.

Laying on his pillow, his black muzzle flecked with grey, and relaxed in a look of serenity was Scrappy, he wasn’t breathing and he never would again.

I have never seen my mother that shaken. Her face was the color of her dark red hair and she couldn’t keep calm long enough to dry the tears from her face. Her voice shattered with every sentence she said over the phone or to my grandfather. I kept telling myself be brave, be strong, do it for Mom.

The next few minutes where a blur. I remember just going back to the car in shock and unpacking while my mom and sister hugged. Get these unpacked Derek, I kept telling myself, don’t think,  just keep moving.

“Why?” I yelled to the ceiling. “Why now?” I yelled at the airplanes full of people who were blissfully ignorant, to the stars that weren’t hidden behind the clouds. And lastly to the God I loved. I was angry, angry that he chose now for the time to take Scrappy. And that the way he chose to take him home was through passing away in his kennel, in a cage. My father always said “the worst part of being a pet owner, is saying goodbye.” Later that day my grandmother said; “He gave me a look today. Something in his eyes said that his work was finished and that it was time to rest.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, only good morning. But if I did I would have said something along the lines of: thank you for always being there.”

We all had our ways of coping that night. My mother called a few friends and they spent the evening with her. My little sister, Evee, broke out the popcorn machine she had gotten earlier in the week and made a giant bowl for dessert. I went upstairs and called my girlfriend, someone who I could cry to without being ashamed. Then I wrote for a little bit.

We Fraziers are built tough. We may not be the strongest or the fastest people, but we are built to last. Two incidents with poisonous mushrooms and even his obesity couldn’t take down that pug. In the end he lived to be thirteen years old, two years older than the average lifespan of his breed. Two years of surviving through pain simply because he loved being a part of our family.  

Scrappy had always been there for me. We read comic books, watched Lord of the Rings together, and even sat outside looking up at the clouds on beautiful summer days. It was everything a stereotypical relationship between a boy and a dog was; friendship, trust,  understanding. Scrappy was more than just the household dog. He was a friend, a partner in crime, a furry brother. A world without him was something that I always hoped to never arrive.

But the day finally did, and now I was left to live in a world without the sound of his claws on the hardwood floor of my kitchen. Scrappy isn’t the type of dog you can replace. You could live your whole life without meeting him and never bat an eye, sure. But whenever someone met him, their life was changed in a positive way because of who he was. I have only good memories of that dog, and photos that will be here with me even when I’m too old to remember when they were taken.

I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, only good morning. But if I did I would have said something along the lines of; thank you for always being there and for always staying true to yourself. You never made me feel like I was the master and you were the dog, rather you made it feel like we were brothers despite the fact that I was several feet taller than you. I would like to thank you for the bottom of my heart for all the memories, and I look forward to seeing you again.

Derek Frazier is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram. 

Posted in 2015-2016, Arts

Like the Seasons

By Nicole Zimmerman

It’s winter, and icicles hang from our noses
and our toes curl deeper into our boots,
searching for shelter.
We cling to our friends
as if we were penguins huddling together,
hoping for our last chance of warmth.
We are snowmen walking through windy streets.
Our scarves blowing into our faces,
frozen hair catching in our mouths.
But as we cling to the sun’s few rays,
and leap from snowbank to snowbank,
We are together.
Grasping hands
and lifting chins,
we rise.
Now, with winter pulling away,
we realize that its cool hand
was only pushing us together.
And as it leaves,
a frostbitten trail spreads
over new blooms.
I lay in the pollen dusted meadow,
flushed tremors will soon be running over my skin.
Now I am warmed by us,
and I no longer need the sun.

Nicole Zimmerman is a Freshman at Barbara Ingram

Posted in 2015-2016, Lifestyle

If Donald Trump Were President

By Maddie Sokoloski 

I haven’t been to Hawaii in a while. Or Alaska, or Canada, or Mexico, or anywhere, really. He put up his wall, but it isn’t just between Mexico and The States. There is a wall around the entire country. We only have forty-eight states now. He said that immigrants from Mexico would sneak around and come in through Canada, and that Hawaii and Alaska were too high of risk factors because we couldn’t put a wall around them, too.

Mr. President says that Hawaii and Alaska and all the islands of the U.S. don’t want America to be great again. He says they’re working with immigrants to take us down from the inside out. When asked about this issue, Trump was quoted saying, “You’re asking me about the islands? A lot of people ask me about those islands. And I tell them that I love those islands. Really, I do. I love ‘em. But we can’t have good American people there if there is no wall to keep out the terrorists and Muslims and Mexicans and rapists. We will make America great again. I tell you that is the goal. To make America great again.”

The Statue of Liberty is in France now. Trump said that we didn’t need it anymore since we closed Liberty Island. He gave it back to France, saying: “We don’t want your stupid statue. We don’t need something from France to represent our nation. The French are trying to prohibit us from making America great. I tell you we will do it ourselves because we’re Americans and we are proud people. We need to make America great again.”

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Some people claimed that putting up the wall would hurt our economy. Yes, we don’t have any imports or exports out of the country, we don’t have any revenue from tourism, and the expenses from the wall, a small loan of 35 million dollars that we took from several other countries, put us even further in debt. However, illegal immigrants can’t get into our country and take jobs from us. So I guess that’s good.

Not only did he manage to overturn the Supreme Court ruling that made gay marriage legal, he made being gay illegal altogether! Anyone who is part of the LGBT community is immediately charged and thrown in jail. If Trump finds someone liking any Facebook or Tumblr post in support of LGBT rights, they’re put on a watch list. Trump has said that the United States is supposed to be a good, Christian country, effectively getting rid of the separation of church and state and the First Amendment right to freedom of religion. This is a great way to get all of the sinners and disgusting people thrown in a prison where they belong.

Some other new laws have been put in place: feminism is illegal, abortions are illegal, helping the poor and less fortunate is definitely illegal, immigration into the States is illegal, moving out of the States is illegal. Trump even managed to pass a new amendment that made making fun of his hair illegal. In essence, he is finally making America great again.

The opinions expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect those of Post Script Magazine

Maddie Sokoloski is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram

Posted in 2015-2016, Lifestyle

Look Out! Spring Holidays You May Not Know About

By Sara Ritchey

March 20 –
Extraterrestrial Abductions Day
Proposal Day

Get yourself a ring man, cause today is National Proposal Day. But before you propose to your beautiful wife, be sure to check the sky. It would be a terrible day to remember if you were abducted by some little green guys before she can say “yes.”

April 14 –
Look Up At The Sky Day
Ex-Spouse Day
International Laughing Day

April 14th, you can look up at the blue skies and maniacally laugh. Besides the awkward stares, I’d assume this one could be pretty fun, but before you get too comfy, you may need to grab yourself an ex-spouse and drag them through this with you. That is absolutely what you should be doing on a beautiful April day in my opinion.

May 13 –
The only Friday the 13th in 2016
“Blame Someone Else” day

For me, Friday the 13th was always filled with silly theories like don’t look in the mirror too long or you will be frozen in time, or if you see a black cat you could be cursed with bad hair days (or something like that) forever. It’s quite alright this year if you see a black cat though, because you can just accuse someone else, since this Friday the 13th is also National Blame Someone Else Day.  Friday the 13th, 2016 is the date that keeps on giving.

Sara Ritchey is a Freshman at Barbara Ingram

Posted in 2015-2016, Arts

The Transformation Into Spring

By Kellie-Ann Morris

She was a tree, frozen in time
with a spine that once stood tall like bark.
But she succumbed under harsh winds,
bending in defeat,
bowing to the enemy,
hunched and ready to snap.

She was a bear, with a coat too light for the cold.
So she hid away
at the first sign of snowflakes  
in a nice cold cave
with only echoes to keep her company.
The cavern walls protected her from the world,

but kept her from exploring it.

She was a flower,
wilted by the weight of snow.
Her petals curled up, vibrant shades crumbling
into colors as dark as the sky without sun.

She was fragile, terrified, vulnerable.
She was stuck in an eternal winter
that was causing her decay.

The harmonious bird song every day
was her wake up call
to wage a war on the cold.
Tweets that delivered directions
to a better place,
gave birth to new beginnings.

So she migrated towards a land
where she could control the clouds,
and fall in love with the way the sun kisses her cheek
and vowed to never return to frost.

She melted the ice from her shoulders
with steadfast determination.
She gained the strength to be unwavering against all forces,
learned how to stretch out her branches
without worrying about how much room she took up.

Now she is spring.

Kellie-Ann Morris is a Freshman at Barbara Ingram

Posted in 2015-2016, Travel

Welcome to Sky Zone

By Katherine Napier

Sky Zone Hagerstown is officially the newest hotspot in Hagerstown, MD. The indoor trampoline park is a growing place that brings in people from all over the tri-state area. The pricing is reasonable, the staff is energized, and the experience is fantastic.

Here’s the list of prices:

30min: $11
60min: $15
90min: $19
120min: $23

30min add-on: $4

60min add-on: $8
90min add-on: $12

Sky Socks- $1

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A promotional photo from their website

These prices are amazing for such a popular place that makes hundreds of dollars each weekend. There are plenty of opportunities to jump and have fun with friends and family. Buying tickets online, in advance, is highly recommended due to the excitement surrounding this newly opened attraction.

The rock wall is an especially unique experience — this is actually the first Sky Zone to have one. You jump into a pit full of foam cubes and walk through it to the rock wall. The bright orange wall catches the eye of a new guest. The pieces that help you up vary in colors and sizes, there is even a bright pink hollowed sphere on one half of it.

Next, we have the ultimate fan favorite — dodgeball. The court is made of wall-to-wall trampolines and about 6-9 people can be on each half of the court. There are 5 balls on the court at a time and games go on for about 10 minutes. It is utterly exhausting but totally worth it. Bouncing and playing dodgeball is the best of both worlds.

The Foam Zone is an area with three trampolines in front of foam cubes. This is for everyone to jump into and isn’t quite as popular, but does a good job at entertaining guests. The second three lane activity is Sky Slam. This is a basketball court with three different basketball hoops at different heights for kids and adults alike to test their dunking skills.

Last but not least, there is the main court. This is just freestyle jumping and having fun. All of this is to be done safely and within your own talent range. Along with that, there is an area called the Fuel Zone where you can grab some drinks and snacks when you take breaks from jumping. There is also an arcade upstairs where guests can hang out and lounge and play video games while they wait until they jump.

When you visit this place, you will be so happy and energized. It’s one of the best places in a town that gets something exciting and before dying back down. But this is something that will last for a while. They do birthday parties and field trips. The staff is very energetic and doesn’t hesitate to help you with any questions or concerns that you have.

Have Fun and Fly Safe!

Kat Napier is a Junior at Barbara Ingram 

Posted in 2015-2016, Lifestyle

The Hollowed-Out Home

By Maddie Sokoloski

This isn’t the house I grew up in. The one filled with laughter and family movie nights, the one with eight-foot-tall Christmas trees under the high ceilings. It’s no longer the house where my brother learned to walk and talk, the house where he got and I lost a first tooth on the same day. This isn’t the place my grandparents would come to visit on Easter and Thanksgiving.

This house was always there, hidden beneath layer after layer of good times. This is the house I saw countless years ago, the first time I ever really saw my parents fight, when my dad drove away and threatened never to come back. It is this house I briefly viewed when my dad and his brother got in a fist fight in our living room, the place I left as I ushered my siblings — in only their sweatshirts and pajamas — out the door into the snow. This house is the result of the fight I overheard a year ago from my bedroom, when I realized my parents’ divorce was on the horizon. This is my house, but it is not the same, and it is not my home.

I enter the house through the door that leads in from the garage to an empty space. The floorboards, brighter where the carpet was rolled up and moved out, are covered in dust that collected under the couches.The few chairs that we left in the living room are pushed up against the wall, huddled where we left them in our haste to move the big things into the garage. A few unused boxes that didn’t get swept into the moving van lie on the floor exactly where we dropped and forgot about them. It is quiet in a way that it’s never been before. For once, the only sounds are my footsteps that echo in the big empty room with no furniture to muffle it. There are no distant sounds of my siblings in their rooms. There is no sizzle of food my mother is cooking, no scent wafting from the kitchen. Everything feels sad and abandoned, left by a broken family who were in too much haste to fall back and pick up the leftover pieces.

Moving house

The living room was cheerful. Brown leather couches surrounded the TV on one half of the room, red and orange paisley-print chairs rested in the other, the two sides separated by a big fireplace. I remember running in from the pool behind the house and pushing the present-covered coffee table out of the way. My sister Lily and her friends dragged themselves away from their pool party long enough to open the presents. Lily tore through the small pile of gift bags, her friends and siblings sitting awkwardly on the paisley-print chairs, water seeping through our beach towels. When tissue paper carpeted the floor and no presents were left on the table, my mother brought out the cake and we sang. After Lily’s wish was made and the cake was eaten, we left to go swim some more. Year after year, every birthday party was held in the living room. Countless presents were opened, countless candles were blown out, countless wishes were made. The living room was always a happy place; I never thought it could be so lifeless.

I walk past the living room and the kitchen with no pots and pans and the dining room with no table or chairs to “the green stairs.” Before, the stairs were the sights of many games. My favorite was one we never named but played very often. The objective: get out the front door before either of the guards could catch us. The game started with the guards sitting on the green-carpeted stairs counting to ten while the rest of us ran and hid. Then, the competition began, an all-out war of wits, speed, and sneaking skills.

Squeals of delight, groans of frustration, and the rhythm of many little sets of feet running from soft carpet to hardwood floors became the dramatic soundtrack of our battle. The game ended when everyone had either been caught or managed to sneak their way past both of the guards and the heavy wood door that creaks when it opens. We would play round after round, often grabbing shoes and jackets to keep away the cold that crept up as the sun set.  Finally, the tournament would end with lots of panting, taunting, wiping sweat from our foreheads, and sprawling across the carpet to catch our breath.

When this house was my home, my mother put four baby pictures — one of each of us — on the wall next to the stairs. Now, all that’s left of these are the nails they used to hang on. Sticking out of the wall like porcupine quills, they leave me feeling sick. These nails were only ever seen when our games were interrupted by someone knocking a picture to the ground. They were only ever seen when there was a mistake, a pause in the game where someone had to hang the picture up to make things right again. These stairs aren’t supposed to be a permanent reminder of all the mistakes we, as a family, have made. They were always filled with so many positive experiences. Those good memories were replaced with the image of the raw, exposed, porcupine-quill nails that only serve as a reminder that there will be no one to fix the mistakes this time. The echoes of squeals of friendly competition and the pitter-patter of sneaking feet faded, covered by the heavy footfalls of tired, worn-down people using the stairs only to get to the top floor. The steps aren’t home base anymore — they’re nothing more than stairs.

At the top of the stairs is the room that used to be mine. As I walk into it, my footsteps sound different, as if I’m walking on a mock version of the home I used to have. It’s like a cheaper knock-off posing as my house but missing a few crucial details. The only things in this room are an old TV set on a little, broken table, two giant mirrors that have yet to be moved to my mother’s new house, and about fifty empty nails and hooks. I can see the secrets I tried to hide with posters and furniture: the hole in the uneven wooden floor, the place where the paint chipped, the places where we missed a spot when we painted the walls pink.

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This room isn’t mine anymore. It doesn’t smell like my perfume or candles or laundry detergent. The soft mountain of pillows and blankets from my bed were packed up and moved out. Yet I can still imagine this room as everything it used to be in the nine years we lived here: Lily’s room, a playroom, a guest room, my bedroom. I can see the walls in every state they’ve been in: blue, brown, black, pink; covered in painted clouds, flower stickers, posters, picture frames. I can picture myself in every version of this room, sleeping or playing or hanging out with my siblings and friends. Through everything this room used to be, I never thought I would see it look like a crude imitation, a second-rate version of itself. I never thought that it would stop feeling like home.

My mom’s new house is not home, not yet. It is different, smaller, made for five people instead of six. My room there is almost the same as it was; it’s painted the same colors, has the same bedspread and knick-knacks. The biggest difference is the box labeled “Maddie’s Pictures” that sits beside my desk. Inside are all of the pictures and wall hangings from my old bedroom. I have yet to hang them on the walls. I’m afraid this new house will become too real, too permanent. I’m afraid to create a bad imitation of my old room and hold on to something that isn’t real anymore.

Most importantly, I’m afraid to lose my home. At the old house, my dad put the nails in the wall, stood on my desk chair to hang the pictures. In the new house, my dad won’t be there to help hang things up just like my mom was too busy unpacking  to set up my knick-knacks like she did when we first bought them. I’m afraid because the new house is so different and my home is an empty shell of itself. The place that was my home for so many years doesn’t exist any more: it was replaced with this replica version that’s missing all of the love we put into it. My home is nothing more than a sad, fading echo in the gutted, hollow house.

 

Maddie Sokoloski is a Sophomore at Barbara Ingram