IDEAS Magazine Edition 1 PDF

OUR MISSION
To prepare tomorrow`s leaders

by educating the mind,
nurturing the spirit,
and strengthening the body.
LITERARY JOURNALISM CLASS

Andrea Angel
Julin Bermudez
Johanna Goosens
Michelle Gutierrz
Sahar Herbol
Nack Choon Jung
Chang Won Lee
Felipe Mansilla
Daniel Snchez
Laura Silva
Laura Steiner
Jos Rozo
Julin Uribe
DESKTOP PUBLISHING CLASS
Thomas Anderson
Andrea Baena
Kyle Barber
Alex Burrowes
Jose Antonio Duran
Ligia Franco Xue
Valentina Gonzalez
Chang Won Lee
Paula Maldonado
Juan Rafael Nieto
Jessica Stephanou
Julian Uribe
EDITORS
Judy Sitton
Guzmn Julio
DESIGN
Eulalia Ospina
Layout
Eulalia Ospina
Guzmn Julio
Cover
Guzmn Julio
Julin Uribe
PICTURES & PAINTINGS
Photography Class
Art Class
Laura Aparicio
Special thanks
Dwight Mott - H.S. Principal
H.S. Teachers
PRODUCTION
CNG Communication Office
PRINTED BY
Cima Impresores E.U.
Colegio NUEVA GRANADA
Cra 2 Este N 70 - 20 Bogot, Colombia
PBX (571) 212 35 11 Web http://www.cng.edu
EDITORIAL
Dear readers: Welcome to this edition of IDEAS, brought to you by
the two sponsors and their courses, Literary Journalism taught by Judy
Sitton and Desktop Publishing taught by Guzman Julio in a joint effort
to be proactive with the work produced in class. All the high school
students were invited to publish their work, but only a few compositions that were not from the above-mentioned classes were submitted.
We invited the photography and art classes to publish some of their
work because a colorful and elaborate edition of the magazine would
obviously be more attractive.
The idea of the Literary Journalism class was to experiment with different genres of writing, in which each student could demonstrate his/her
authenticity by exploring subjects of his/her own choice. The creation
of art can no longer be a product of rules and limitations; it needs to be
a reflection of the contact that the artist has with him/herself. Thus, we
expect you to find products of substance that you will hopefully enjoy
reading and seeing.
Pedro Navajas says writing is important because it offers the element
of escape from daily patterns and routines, the escape to allow oneself
to dream, to imagine, to invent , to create, to BE.IDEAS brings toyou
an issue of what your peers ARE and what they are capable of. We
sincerely hope you enjoy it.
IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007
CONTENIDO
8
9
ARTICLES - ARTCULOS
Un nuevo Amanecer? Julin Uribe

The End is near. Laura Steiner
ESSAYS - ENSAYOS
12 Who needs monkeys & alligators When we can have like,

malls? Daniela Cleves
14 Chekhovs Uncle Vanya & Nathaniel Hawthornes
The Scarlet Letter. Gabriel Nieto
16 Freedom. Julin Uribe
17 La existencia y ex-sistencia. Juliana Gmez
22 El existencialismo es un humanismo. Valentina Llins
28
30
31
32
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
52
54
55
56
POEMS - POEMAS
Procrastination. Andrea ngel

I will fight. Catalina Herrera
Consolation. Chang Won Lee
Before The Man Was Gone. Chang Won Lee
Yearning. Chang Won Lee
Deadalive. Daniel Snchez O.
Will I Ever Understand? Daniela Builes
A Moment. Gabriel Gonzlez
For You Id. Gabriel Salazar
I Am. Gabriel Salazar
One, Two, Three. Johanna Goossens
I thought I said goodbye. Johanna Goossens
Perfect. Johanna Goossens
Cement. Johanna Goossens
Zidane Juan C. Tamayo
Infinite Transition. Juliana Gmez
And I Lost You For Ever. Laura Steiner
Endless. Laura Steiner
Fighting For What I Really Want. Miguel Pombo
The Light That Called Me. Pablo Vacca
The Fall. Nack Choon Jung
Puritan Literature In Shakespearen Style. Phil Smiley
A Darkness Surrounds. Rodrigo Zamora
Ronaldinho. Santiago Santos
Remember Home. Sofa Milln
BIOGRAPHIES - BIOGRAFAS
58 Alone With My Thoughts. Sahar Herbol

59 Chined to a Bridge. Johanna Goossens
LETTERS - CARTAS
62
63
64
66
67
68
70
71
Letter. Andrea ngel

President. Julin Bermdez & Felipe Mansilla
Funeral. Johanna Goossens
Almighty. Julin Bermdez, Felipe Mansilla & Daniel Snchez
Soldiers. Sahar A. Herbol
Letter To Outsiders. Laura Steiner
Letter. Laura Steiner
Mom. Sahar A. Herbol
SHORT STORIES - HISTORIA CORTAS

74
75
76
77
78
79
80
82
84
85
86
88
90
92
96
96
97
97
97
98
99
100
Lo nico que qued. Alejandra Carson

La noche estrellada. Andrs Mishaan
El guitarrista viejo. Andrea Stephanou
Los girasoles mgicos. Daniel Ballesteros
La historia de Leo. Gabriel Carmona
The Get-Well Card. Johanna Goossens
Jester. Johanna Goossens
And the Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round. Johanna Goossens
El molino. Juan David Arredondo
El enojo. Laura Gmez
Short Story. Laura Silva
I will no let you go. Laura Steiner
Un vrtigo interminable. Laura Steiner
Gothic Story. Michelle Gutirrez, Laura Steiner & Jos A. Rozo
Cuento. Nicols Mazuera
Ave Fnix. Nicols Bejarano
El mico. Nicols Cadavid
El tratori. Nicols Cadavid
Historia. Natalia Garca Pea
Belleza de gladiador. Santiago Santos
El camalen. William Gaviria
Longest Night. Sahar Herbol
PLAYS - OBRAS DE TEATRO
102 The Obsession House. Michelle Gutirrez, Laura Steiner & Jose A. Rozo
105 Journalism - Play (Reality Show) Nack Choon Jung & Johanna Goossens
articles
artculos
artculos
articles
UN NUEVO AMANECER?
Julin Uribe 12th
Basado en: La Farsa, Natalia Springer, Un Pasqun 2005
Un lema deambula por las calles de Colombia: Mano firme, corazn grande. Irnicamente, dicho lema, adoptado por nuestro fiel presidente, ha ido perdiendo (i) seriedad
y (ii) credibilidad a lo largo del tiempo, siendo ste el peor enemigo de Uribe. El tema
discutido por la autora Springer, en su apasionante articulo, titulado la farsa, nos deja
claro que esta supuesta mano firme no slo ha perdido la firmeza pero, a su vez, se ha
vuelto tan blanda como la mano del criticado ex-presidente Pastrana. Esto tiene que ver
con la poltica de Uribe respecto a los paramilitares. Las concesiones que les ha dado a
los paramilitares se asemejan a las otorgadas por las de Pastrana a la guerrilla en la zona
de distensin. El nuevo plan Uribista de reinsercin de los paramilitares se ha convertido en una gran polmica entre los iniciados en temticas polticas.
Como as, una amnista para los que masacraron a miles de compatriotas y desplazaron
a otros tantos miles!? Como bien declara la autora Springer, El terror es terror y su autor
es terrorista y as deberan ser juzgados los paramilitares colombianos, como terroristas.
Visto desde las botas de caucho de estos violentos, para qu entregar las armas? Si
ganan mejor salario que un campesino comn y corriente! Por lo cual, aqu es donde
viene la parte triste y pattica de este proceso de reinsercin; estos terroristas no ven este
proceso con el mismo propsito que la ciega autoridad del gobierno. Si atraviesan por
este proceso, claramente pueden volver a las armas, aunque metafricamente las hayan
entregado, y volver a la vida subversiva. As pues, los paramilitares quedan blindados
ante cualquier persecucin o demanda impuesta por la justicia colombiana en el futuro. Entonces, dgame seor Presidente, para qu hacemos este proceso si la verdad
es que los paramilitares estn aprovechando vuestra inocencia e insensatez? Para qu
gastar miles de dlares, del endeudado bolsillo del Estado, en un proceso inservible,
cuando nos estn engaando a todos?
Bueno pues, digamos que le podemos entregar nuestra esperanza y empata a estos terroristas con objetivos nobles y con buenos deseos a travs de este proceso. Sin embargo,
ms all de estos reparos, lo mnimo que se puede exigir al gobierno es que cumpla sus
propios compromisos. Reinsertado no solo es una definicin jurdica pero tambin
tiene un significado muy preciso en cuanto al reintegro del desmovilizado en la sociedad
civil y en la economa, por medio de una actividad productiva. Lo que se advierte aqu es
algo muy distinto: el gobierno no les ha cumplido, los empleos ofrecidos no se han materializado y el comn de los paramilitares desmovilizados sigue dependiendo exclusivamente del auxilio estatal, razn por la cual resulta fcil tentar al reinsertado nuevamente
a la delincuencia y la violencia. Desde luego, hay una falla de los empresarios, quienes
no han ayudado a generar las respectivas oportunidades de trabajo. En otros trminos,
ni son aceptables las bases ticas y jurdicas de la reinsercin ni sta se esta dando en el
sentido pleno que debera tener.

artculos
articles
Ana Mara Cruz 9th Grade
THE END IS NEAR

Laura Steiner12th
A study which was concluded yesterday morning shows that a 100 km squared meteor is
approaching Earth, putting, the World as we know it, very much in danger.
Everything youve feared, everything that has haunted your dreams is about to become
real. A meteor is approaching Earth and scientists believe that its impact is strong enough
to destroy all living things. Scientists predict the meteor will hit Earth on Tuesday; only
two more days for us to live! No more life, mo more water, no more clean air!
Factories and supermarkets are shutting down. There will be nowhere to buy your supplies. Ladies and gentleman, our World is over.
Beware! Beware! There will be nowhere to hide. You may run, but you will never run
fast enough. There is no way to escape the enddestruction is inevitable. The meteor is
expected to hit Earth on Tuesday morning on the coast of Brazil, which means that South
America will be the first continent to go, but the other six will hardly last more than ten
minutes! Those of us, who are fortunate enough to survive the impact, will be killed by
the immediate radiation. And those who are still strong enough to survive will be punished, for you will live in a World that is nothing like the one we know; everything is
about to change!
All I can say for now, is: enjoy these last few days surrounded by those you love, it may
be the last time you see them. On Tuesday, run to the roof of you houses, or at least to a
higher level, for it may the only way to survive a few minutes more.
This, ladies and gentleman, is not a warning, for there is nothing to warn you about, the
meteor is hitting Earth, terminating life, no matter how fast we run or where we run to.
This is rather a good bye. Today is the last day, after 15 years, that I will write for this paper. Thank-you, my fellow readers, for keeping up with my articles, thank you for being
so constant and reading everything I write. I will cherish all of you out there who have so
closely kept my passion for writing alive.
Regards and be safe,
Laura S.
10
Julia Turbay 12th Grade
Silvana Olarte 11th Grade
Mariana Gonzlez 11th Grade
Santiago Gonzlez 11th Grade
essays
ensayos
ensayos
essays
WHO NEEDS MONKEYS & ALLIGATORS
WHEN WE CAN HAVE,

LIKE, MALLS?
Daniela Cleves 11th Grade
*Totally Ditzy Approach and Voice*
Lately our cities and streets (oh and malls,
its so unbearable) have become totally
overpopulated by, like, people and cars;
its not as if they were Louis purses or
Manolos, I mean, that would be so amazing everyone would be, like, happy.
People complain that theres no more
space for houses, but, hello? Theres not
even space for new malls what do they expect?. (God, some people have their priorities so screwed up you know.) Oh and the
sidewalks, oh my god, dont even get me
started; they are just so disgusting, theyre
full of gross and very unlikable people. Its
like you cant walk without bumping into
a sweaty, overworked worker (eww), or
even having your manicure totally ruined
by someones unwashed clothes. (Ugh,
no comment.) No wonder, like, fat people
cant walk around anymore, anyone and
everyone tries to avoid having to walk anywhere in such appalling conditions. People
say that global warming is bad, but God,
they have no idea what I go through when
Im in my car and I see such a ugly sight.
Thank God I do not have to go through
such a terrifying experience; I totally feel
bad for anyone that actually does.
I mean through all those awful but realistic
descriptions, as unbelievable as it sounds
Im totally affected by overpopulation
in the city. I mean how do they expect
all the cars to fit in like a three lane road,
hello? I mean apart from the fact theres
like a billion cars, theres no space. Our
12
cars arent like big, big, just sort of big, like

half way big you know, really just average sized now that I think about it. (God
compared to cars I have in Europe they
are really small actually.) But you cant
expect to fit like so many cars in such a
petite space; its like trying to fit into a debutantes dress thats three sizes smaller. It
just cant work, I mean two does but three
is too much, its absolutely pathetic and totally cheap. I mean, we are supposed to,
like, pay taxes in order to have, like, amazing conditions in the places we live in, yet
I dont consider, like, an hour traffic jams
perfect conditions; I mean its not as is we
dont have places to go and people to see
right? I mean hello? Everyone could get
everywhere quicker if they used my private
jet (and thats like a fifteen minute while
they load everything, god, I think helicopters are much more efficient).
One clearly obvious solution to a problem
that Im positive affects, like, everybody,
is to stop caring so much about trees in
the rainforest and mountains, and instead
use, like, that space to make totally new
cities, so we can have space to spread out
and like, have fun. I mean imagine having like another house by the Amazon
River; that would be like, so hot. Or a
mall that can only be reached by yachts,
hello? That would be, like, so out of this
world. Or clubs, like, in the middle of a
sparkling river?
Plus, I mean, like, we
need the trees to breathe, right? We give
the air back when we breathe out duh, so

its not like we can just run out of oxygen
(We so recycle unconsciously). The trees
are just,, like, a decoration, you know, but
they are making our lives so totally boring
and, like, repetitive, so we might as well
get them out of the way. Anyways, its not
like they rather live with global warming
right? I mean we are so totally doing them
a favor, they prefer to not be around right
now. I mean we totally need a break from
the tree relationship.
And for those of you that care so much
about the monkeys and alligators and,
like, all those other animals, well, they
probably suffer so much in the wilderness; imagine the terribly dirty conditions
that those poor animals are forced to, like,
live in (eww). For them we can have, like,
three possible solutions. One would be to
send them, like, to animal zoos, and the
second would be to use them as pets. I
know that ones totally crazy, they would
probably eat your whole shoe collection
or worse your cell phone, but some people are so crazy these days. The last solution, (absolutely my favorite) would be to
make them into purses and shoes. Some
people say its cruel, but if you think about
it, its totally awesome. Eventually when
animals, like, die, their skins will probably, like, die too, so why dont we recycle
them?. People are always making such a
big deal about recycling these days. Plus,
ensayos
essays
imagine skin clothes are so expensive, it

could so totally bring in more money for,
like, the hunter people. Poor animals, we
would actually be doing them a humongous favor by adopting them as our own.
Now for the people concerned about all
like the adorable and ugly fishes in, like,
the water, well, they can be left as decoration or hello even better? People can so
totally have them for dinner; I mean theres
actually people that dont find fish for dinner, like, gross (Eww, I cant believe that.
Chicken is definitely the best fish).
See, our overpopulation problem is, like,
totally ruling our lives when we can so totally get rid of it. Imagine lounging at a
rainforest caf or shopping around in striking malls? Thats, like, totally rad. The
solution to the problem of overpopulation
is totally in the rainforests, I mean, its the
best and, like, most beneficial one. Someone who doesnt agree with this is so totally a hippie that probably doesnt even
like have a shower (Eww). We can so
totally enrich our culture and, like, economy by living in the rainforest, theres so
much to do. Plus, imagine this: we would,
like, give electricity and internet to people
there. Who wouldnt feel, like, awesome
about doing an awesome deed? Totally
moving into the rainforest would be so,
like, amazing, and it can solve all of our
totally bad problems.
Mara Alejandra Echavarra 9th Grade
13
ensayos
essays
Comparison between
Chekhovs UNCLE VANYA &

Nathaniel Hawthornes
THE SCARLET LETTER
Gabriel Nieto 10th Grade
As they are both works written in, and written about more or less the same time frame
(18th and 19th century), there are vast similarities in themes in Anton Chekhovs UNCLE VANYA and Nathaniel Hawthornes
THE SCARLET LETTER. The most obvious
of these common grounds is that of forbidden love, being arguably the centerpiece
of both the novel and the play. Looking
closely, though, there are many more common themes between Uncle and Scarlet. Among these can be the burden of
routine life on everyday people, and how
this affects their interaction with others,
and also how society burdens individuals
through its taboos and how this shapes
their behavior. The profound similarities
I can find between this Russian play and
this American novel serve the purpose of
demonstrating how closely related the developments of those nations were; something ironic, considering that later on, in
the 20th century, each of these countries
represented complete opposite ends of the
worlds ideological spectrum.
Hester Prynne and Arthur Dimmesdales
union represents forbidden love in THE
SCARLET LETTER; meanwhile, in UNCLE
VANYA, forbidden affection is at the center
14
of the major debacle of the play, and various forbidden loves develop: Uncle Vanya
and Elena, Sonia and Mijail. Hesters relationship with Reverend Dimmesdale is
considered forbidden as she is married to
another man, and he is a church member,
supposedly practicing celibacy. Uncle
Vanya cannot be with Elena as she is married to his brother-in-law, Alexander. Sonia and Mijail cannot be together because
she is not beautiful (an asset required by
men in society) and because he is secretly in love with Elena, who in return is in
love with him as well, but cannot be with
him as she is maried to Alexander. As Ive
previously stated, these forbidden relationships are crucial to the development of the
plots of both UNCLE...and THE SCARLET..
Hesters adultery, and subsequent punishment for it, give title to Hawthornes novel
and dominate the entire novel, as it tells
the story of the consequences of forbidden love in the God-revering, puritanical
society of colonial Boston, Massachusetts.
Similarly, it is the forbidden relationships
in UNCLE VANYA that drive characters
(most importantly Uncle Vanya) to feud
amongst themselves and for problems to
surface from deep within their conscious-
ensayos
essays
Martn Gutirrez 11th Grade
nesses; these problems include Vanyas

outburst toward his brother in law, from his
deceased sister and the several love confessions that happen as the play develops.
tury society in a more direct way, through

his main characters. Vanyas boring lifestyle in Alexanders farm causes him to
question the purpose of his life, and to
think it has been a complete waste. This
The effects of routine and lackluster lifeis the same for the doctor, Mijail, and
style on characters are also themes adit causes him to find fulfillment in life
dressed in the two literary works Ive
through other things, such as romances
aforementioned; however, in each text
that should not be. Although this is simthey are represented in different ways.
ilar between Vanya and Scarlet, there is
In the Hawthorne novel, the effects of
a large difference between the contexts
routine on people arent shown through
in which both authors critique modern
the actions surrounding themain charsociety. In the Russian play, the author
acters. Instead, these effects are shown
uses a rural setting - a farm - while in
in the community as a whole, and how
the American novel, the author sets his
they deal with Hesters problem, at first
story in the biggest city in the U.S. (at
negatively, demonstrating the adamant
the time).
religious mentality of the colonial United
States; later, their mindset changes com- One is a play and the other is a novel,
pletely and they are apathetic to adultery, but there are striking similarities between
issue that had before caused them to com- UNCLE VANYA and THE SCARLET LETplain and recite jeremiads. Through this, TER. The changes going on in the world
Nathaniel Hawthorne wants to show that between the 1700 and 1800s were simieven the most devout religious fanatics lar throughout, from the straight-laced
can abandon their principles because of port town of Boston in the new nation
the degradation that living in society was of the United States to the countryside of
causing them, (arguing totally against the Russia. It is interesting to see how two
organization of population in urban set- greatmindsof 19th centuryliterature,
tings). In UNCLE VANYA, Chekhov ad- Chekhov and Hawthorne, agree on what
dresses the tedious nature of the 19th cen- problems society of that era were facing.
15
ensayos
essays
FREEDOM
Julian Uribe 12th Grade
Freedom, by definition, is the right, or

the capacity, of self-determination, as an
expression of the individual will1, but
more than a right, it could be a feeling,
or even an emotion. Freedom, similar to
the semantics of democracy, is a word
which connotes different things to different
people2. Therefore, freedom may be considered from the simplest thing as gaining
independence from ones parents, to ending some type of indentured services such
as prostitution or working in a sweatbox.
Freedom has many synonyms such as autonomy, independence, and liberty, but
indirectly, it can be related to happiness,
joy, and the sense of release from any form
of oppression.
What is the cost of freedom? This too, depends on your conditions and the way you
manage your own freedom. If your condition, to begin with, is not that of a free person, then you have to struggle and fight for
your freedom. The exercise of freedom, in
turn, also entails rights and responsibilities,
cost and benefits. To give an example of
this, it is far easier for a child to live under
the ignorance of his or her insouciance and
not being accountable for what he or she
does, while an adult must accept the consequences of his or her acts. In other words,
freedom is no free ride for many, but for
others the freedom at their disposal is disdained and adds no value to their lives.
The feeling of self-determination, as said,
is something envied by many, but as Dostoevsky once conveyed, What man wants
16
is simply independent choice, whatever

that independence may cost and whereever it may lead.
The desire for freedom will always co-exist with human existence, no matter the
degree of oppression or enjoyment of full
rights in our lives; this emotion could be
considered an utopia, to the extent that
true freedom may well be unattainable.
Indeed, any human society probably entails constrains to freedom, for a number of
good reasons. There will always be restrictive factors in our lives, such as norms and
regulations. In addition, as per the famous
quote, My freedom ends where yours begins3, which makes us realize that there
will always be some sort of invisible law in
our lives called the social contract.
As a result, for some people a degree of
oppression may result whatever the degree
of freedom they enjoy. In the end, we may
wonder to what extent freedom is a well
defined quality. There is always greater
freedom than that which we have and we
struggle to reach, only to find there will always be some barriers left. One might ask
the question: is freedom for real or is it a
dream? If it is a dream, is it worth chasing?
What man wants is simply an independent
choice, whatever that independence may
cost and where ever it may lead.
1. www.wikipedia.org
2. Carl Becker Democracy
3. Unknown author
ensayos
essays
LA EXISTENCIA Y EXSISTENCIA
Juliana Gmez 10th Grade
En qu consiste el existencialismo de
Martn Heidegger y cuales son las
diferencias centrales con el
existencialismo de Jean-Pal Sartre?
El siglo XX fue una poca llena de cambios
y movimientos sociales, culturales y polticos que a su vez inspir el surgimiento de
una serie de filsofos basados en la misma
doctrina pero con interpretaciones diferentes. Martn Heidegger y Jean-Pal Sartre,
dos filsofos contemporneos y existencialistas ateos (desde el punto de vista de
Sartre), fueron dos de los protagonistas de
ste periodo; presentaron ideas distintas e
innovadoras que causaron controversia e
influenciaron la sociedad del momento.
Es interesante ponerlos frente a frente en
temas particulares tales como Dios y la
libertad, la existencia humana y el humanismo, pero mejor an en un tema en particular como el existencialismo. Teniendo en
cuenta que el existencialismo es un movimiento cultural y filosfico que se basa en
el ser del hombre y en la responsabilidad
que ste adquiere sobre su vida al momento de existir, podemos proseguir a analizar
el existencialismo del filsofo alemn Martn Heidegger al igual que sus similitudes y
diferencias con el de Jean-Paul Sartre. Me
basar principalmente en sus respectivos
escritos Carta sobre el humanismo y El existencialismo es un humanismo.
Heidegger es considerado como un filsofo existencialista ateo, como Sartre, pero
hay que aclarar que l mismo tiene sus
diferencias con estos ttulos. l siente que
hay algo ms adems del simple hecho

de la existencia del hombre (que se podr
ver a travs de ste escrito) y por esto no
se encuentra en total acuerdo con la palabra existencialismo. Asimismo se opone
al trmino ateo debido a que l afirma
nadie se puede considerar como creyente
o ateo puesto que todava no se ha decidido nada sobre la existencia de dios o su
no-ser, as como tampoco sobre la posibilidad o imposibilidad de los dioses1. Por
esto decide enfocarse ms en la metafsica
(aunque en momentos en su Carta sobre el
humanismo dice que hay que sobrepasarla
y llegar ms all), pero en especial en la
ontologa la cual trata del ser en general y
de sus propiedades trascendentales2.
El escrito del filsofo alemn, Carta sobre el humanismo, es principalmente una
respuesta a la pregunta por parte de Jean
Beaufret: Cmo se le puede volver a dar
un sentido a la palabra humanismo? Basndose en esta pregunta Heidegger trata de
poner en palabras su pensamiento con
relacin al hombre y su papel en la tierra,
algo que al final se vuelve bastante complicado. Es as como a travs de su escrito, a
mi parecer, Heidegger logra establecer su
propio existencialismo3 dado a su inconformidad con el existencialismo comn y
1. Heidegger, Martn. Carta sobre el humanismo.
Alianza Editorial 2001. Pg. 69
2. www.rae.es
3. Est entre comillas puesto que es bastante
peculiar y en el idioma del propio Heidegger sera
ex-sistencialismo
17
ensayos
essays
su incapacidad de sentar bases firmes sobre terrenos que todava no han sido explorados a fondo.
Para refrescar la mente iniciar con una
breve explicacin del existencialismo de
Sartre. ste se basa principalmente en el
concepto de que la existencia precede
la esencia. Asimismo, el hombre, quien
es libre, adquiere una responsabilidad al
existir (entendido como el hecho de vivir
y estar en la tierra). Esta responsabilidad
es su vida, la cual se definir y tomar
sentido a medida que el hombre acte y
ratifique lo que piensa por medio de sus
acciones. Es as como Sartre dice que el
hombre es un proyecto que vive subjetivamente, que involucra sentimientos y
experiencia para progresar.
Contrario a lo que dice Sartre, Heidegger
piensa que la existencia es la efectiva realizacin de la esencia y que la realidad
efectiva no causa ni produce la esencia4.
Pero su oposicin todava va ms all.
Para el filsofo alemn, el existencialismo,
como el resto de las palabras, ha perdido
su significado puesto que ste ha sido tergiversado. Heidegger piensa que el existencialismo no es slo concentrarse en el
hombre sino tambin en el Ser, una parte
fundamental que los hombres y otros filsofos, en los que incluye a Sartre, han dejado a un lado (en el olvido) debido a su gran
nivel de complejidad. Lo decisivo para el
hombre, segn Heidegger, es su encuentro
con el Ser, su encuentro con la verdad. El
problema es que esto no se puede lograr
puesto que todava no tenemos clara la
relacin con el Ser. Es bastante frustrante
puesto que el Ser no est dado todo el
tiempo; es ms, est escondido la mayora
del tiempo, y aquellos que lo encuentran
son casi que privilegiados. De igual manera, el Ser aparenta estar muy cerca pero a
la vez est muy lejos. Este distanciamiento
se debe a la falta de herramientas por parte
del hombre para llegar a ella.
4. Tomado de Relatora de Juliana Gmez C. sobre
Se busca un Poeta por Guillermo Mina
18
Pero el misterio en torno al Ser no para ah.

Nadie est completamente seguro de que
no haya presenciado el Ser. Esto ocurre
puesto que el mismo Heidegger admite,
y lo ratifica con la analoga de Herclito,
que el Ser no es nada espectacular, no es
nada del otro mundo; es ms, es algo muy
simple. Entonces puede que cualquiera
haya presenciado al Ser, pero debido a que
est condicionado a pensar que el Ser es
extraordinario, si ste lo llega a presenciar
no se da cuenta y lo pasa por desapercibido. Este abandono u olvido, que en otras
ocasiones es causado porque el hombre
piensa al Ser como objeto, hace que los
hombres hayamos entrado en un estado
de la nada, en donde la ausencia del
Ser es la mayor vacante, y sta es la que
Heidegger quiere que ocupemos. La razn
por la cual nos encontramos en la nada,
segn el filsofo alemn, es por la forma
de pensar de algunos individuos dentro de
los que incluye a Sartre. Aquellos materializan o tecnifican la mayora de las cosas
(o algos en el caso del Ser) dejando a un
lado la esencia de lo que convierten en objeto. Casi se podra decir que lo que mat
al Dios de Nietzsche fue esa depreciacin
por parte del hombre. Pero bueno, aunque
vuelve y reitera que todava no estamos en
condiciones de llegar al Ser y de conseguir
que nadie se olvide de l, insiste que hay
que ser pacientes y en todo caso empezar
con algo para que algn da lo logremos.
Pero qu o quin es el Ser del que Heidegger habla? Aunque suene un poco
desconcertante ni siquiera Heidegger mismo lo sabe. Lo nico que sabemos del Ser
es que es algo trascendente, algo superior
que tiene el destino y la esencia del hombre en sus manos. Por esta razn es por la
cual el hombre, un ente pensante, tiene que
lograr formar una relacin con el Ser para
que pueda darle una direccin y sentido
a su vida; para que lo gue con sus reglas
y leyes. El destino slo se le va a mostrar
al pensar que piensa la historia del Ser en
el hecho de que el hombre encuentra un
camino hacia la verdad del Ser y emprende
la marcha hacia tal encontrar5. Es por eso

que aquel pensar que no logra que el Ser se
le d, no tiene un destino y da vueltas por
todas partes alrededor de s mismo como
animal racional6. El Ser es el nico que logra
destinar y conjugar al hombre. El Ser es el
que da el apoyo y la experiencia necesaria
que el hombre necesita para estar tranquilo
y sentirse protegido.
Ya habiendo dado una idea general del
Ser, proceder a darla para el hombre. Para
Heidegger todo es un ente. Pero los hombres, debido a que piensan y logran formar
relaciones (comprometindose con el Ser),
reciben un nombre especial: Dasein. El
Dasein es libre, igual que el hombre para
Sartre, pero este no se define o encuentra
su esencia por medio de sus acciones, sino
cuando logra establecer una relacin con el
Ser; el hombre es en la medida en que existe7. Contrario a lo que dice Sartre, de que
el hombre es un slo, Heidegger afirma
que el hombre est compuesto por el cuerpo y el alma y que ste, un sujeto, est
dotado de conciencia. Como se puede ver
la base de todo es pensar, y para lograr llegar al Ser el hombre se tiene que liberar de
todo lo tcnico para poder experimentar su
esencia. Pero cmo logra esto el hombre?
En el momento en que el pensar (parte del
hombre) se sale de s mismo, inmediatamente se encuentra ms cerca de que el Ser
se le d. Que el Ser se le d significa
que el pensar encuentra la verdad o el descubrimiento (sin velo,definicin griega
de la verdad) del Ser. En otras palabras,
cuando el pensar encuentra la verdad del
Ser es porque el Ser se ha descubierto y el
pensar lo puede presenciar. Cuando el Ser
se descubre para el pensar (se muestra en
su claro), el pensar adquiere su ex sistencia, se convierte en parte del destino del
Ser, y por ende se establece en un mundo.
Entonces si el hombre ex siste es porque
7. La ex-sistencia del hombre es su sustancia
ensayos
essays
ha encontrado su esencia y por ende se encuentra en el destino del Ser volvindose

parte de ste (la esencia del hombre reside
en su ex -sistencia8). Cuando se establece la
ex sistencia se establece un vnculo que
trae consigo reglas que dicen cmo se debe
vivir y cmo debe ser el destino del hombre9. El hombre descubre su esencia en el
momento que, despus de agarrar algo del
Ser, y haber emprendido un descenso peligroso llega una vez ms a su subjetividad.
Es ah cuando supera la metafsica y concreta su esencia. Ah podemos ver una clara
diferencia con el pensamiento de Sartre, y
sobretodo con el significado que ste le da
a la esencia, puesto que para l la esencia
es lo que el hombre lleva adentro y que se
va enriqueciendo con las experiencias y las
decisiones que se tomen con libertad.
Pero volviendo una vez ms al tema del
encuentro con el Ser, ah surge otro problema. Si a algn pensar del hombre se le
descubriera el Ser, probablemente entendera cmo y qu es el Ser, pero lo que
sucedera es que ste no podra ponerlo
en palabras. Por esta misma razn es por
la cual los filsofos buscan en los poetas
un apoyo, en el cual, como dice Mr. Mina,
les prestan las palabras para poder expresar lo que sienten y piensan.
9. Tomado de Relatora # 4 de Juliana Gmez C.
sobre Carta sobre el humanismo de Heidegger
Laura Vlez 10th Grade
19
ensayos
essays
Habiendo explicado esto, proceder a

exponer la visin de Heidegger en torno
al lenguaje. El pensar es el primero que
se abre camino hacia la verdad del ser
y por consiguiente es el que le aporta al
lenguaje (la morada del hombre). Lo que
sucede hoy en da es que hay que asirse
a los trminos y nombres que son utilizados comnmente dado a que no ha habido
pensar que llegue a pensar la verdad del
Ser, y por eso no ha habido nada que pueda guiar el lenguaje10. Como lo mencion
anteriormente, Heidegger est sumamente
preocupado con el deterioro del lenguaje
y en especial de las palabras. Por esto no
ve la necesidad de volverle a dar un sentido a la palabra humanismo debido al dao
que causan los ttulos. Es por esta misma
razn por la cual l empieza a redefinir
algunas palabras (entre ellas la existencia / ex -sistencia), o mejor, a reconstruir
el elemento11 (lenguaje) del hombre12; el
hombre ha perdido su morada. Entonces
como el hombre ha perdido su morada el
hombre tambin perdi al Ser, y por esto
la nica forma de reencontrarlas es existir
pero omitiendo los nombres ya preestablecidos13. Solo haciendo un balance es
como se le vuelve a regalar a la palabra
el valor precioso de su esencia y al hombre la morada donde habitar en la verdad
del ser.14 Debido a que el lenguaje es la
casa del hombre, la esencia del lenguaje
se tiene que pensar en correspondencia
con el ser15.
Entonces el lenguaje es tan importante que
es responsabilidad del hombre, y sobretodo de poetas y pensadores quienes son
aquellos que lo utilizan frecuentemente y
sobre Carta sobre el humanismo de Heidegger.
11. Aquello que permite y capacita la verdad
Alianza Editorial 2001. Pg. 20.
20
con ms cuidado, de cuidarlo. El lenguaje,

que es la morada del hombre como dice
Heidegger, puede ser interpretado como
una casa en donde el hombre se siente
protegido y libre. Es como si el Ser fuera el
padre y la casa fuera el lenguaje; estos dos
actuando como proteccin para el hijo, el
hombre. Es as como el hombre, encargado
de guardar la verdad del ser, y al habitar en
su casa, el lenguaje, ex-siste.
Ya que tenemos ese conocimiento del lenguaje podemos pasar a la definicin que el
mismo Heidegger da del humanismo y sus
crticas que tiene con la definicin del entonces al igual que de la de Sartre. Como
lo entiende Heidegger, el humanismo es
el que piensa la humanidad del hombre
desde su proximidad al Ser, pero por otro
lado es lo que trata de explicar la esencia del hombre por medio de convertirla
en objeto. Es por esto que Heidegger est
en desacuerdo con la definicin de la humanidad, puesto que deja a un lado algo
tan importante como el Ser16. Si decidiramos tomar esa definicin como dice Heidegger, estaramos pensando una clase de
humanismo extrao en donde el hombre
no es el que importa; in a grove where no
light penetrates17. Viviramos en un mundo
en donde el Ser no existiera puesto que
no se podra poner en claro o iluminar al
pensar del hombre. Es as como el humanismo, apoyado por la lgica, ensea un nihilismo irresponsable y destructivo18. Por
esto Heidegger dice que si el hombre llega
a encontrar su esencia, encuentra su lugar,
y puede tener en cuenta no slo el resto
de los hombres sino tambin la naturaleza.
Por otro lado est Sartre quien solamente
resalta la importancia de la accin pues es
por medio de sta por la cual el hombre se
define, considera que el hombre es un ser
16. Otro ejemplo: al designar a algo como <valor>
se est privando precisamente a lo as valorado de su
importancia.
17. Heidegger, Martn. Letter on Humanism. Basic
Writings. Pg. 248.
en situacin19 y que es un ser desamparado al que lo acompaa slo su conciencia.

Esta ltima caracterstica es la que hace del
existencialismo un humanismo importante
puesto que la conciencia es algo que slo
los humanos tenemos. Entonces es claro
como el humanismo de Sartre no pone a la
humanidad en el puesto que se merece y
por eso es que Heidegger se opone rotundamente a este humanismo, adicionando
el hecho de que Sartre cree que estamos
en una situacin en donde slo hay hombres cuando en realidad debera ser que
estamos en una situacin en donde principalmente hay un Ser.
Es as como podemos ver que todo lo que
dice Heidegger en la Carta sobre el humanismo es casi una oposicin directa al pensar
de Sartre y el resto de las personas que ignoran al Ser, y que al igual que la metafsica,
ponen en el olvido la verdad del ser20. Es
claro que Heidegger trat de poner todo lo
relevante al Ser en palabras claras y conceptos bsicos, pero al final se dio cuenta lo
difcil que esto es. En todo caso su trabajo y
esfuerzo creo que valieron mucho la pena
pues llegar a pensar esto no slo requiere
de tremenda inteligencia sino que fue un
aporte vital para los hombres.
Sin duda alguna Heidegger tiene una
serie de pensamientos fuertes e intere19. Mina, Guillermo. Se busca un poeta. Al mrgen.
2005. Pg. 28.
ensayos
essays
santes, que aunque me parecen utpicas, las considero como una manera diferente de ver al hombre. A pesar de que
no estoy de acuerdo con el concepto del
Ser de Heidegger, puesto que me parece
una forma exagerada de pensar al hombre, hubo momentos que me cautiv y
me hizo creer que lo que l deca era la
ltima palabra. Por otro lado, el hecho
de haberme hecho sentir inferior durante
todo el escrito fue parte de la razn por
la cual segu leyendo, y es por esto que
es inevitable que este filsofo no deje
su marca en m. Tengo que admitir que
haber analizado a Heidegger fue un reto,
y un reto que vali la pena. Yo dira que
Heidegger hizo que mi pensar se saliera
de mi cuerpo y llegara a que el Ser se le
diera, puesto que no encuentro otra explicacin a cmo llegu a entender algo
tan complejo.
Bibliografa
Gmez, Juliana. Carta sobre el humanismo. Relatoras # 1, 2, 3 y 4.
Heidegger, Martn. Carta sobre el humanismo.
Alianza Editorial 2001. Pgs. 7-91
Heidegger, Martn. Letter on Humanism. Basic
Writings. Pgs. 214-265
Mina, Guillermo. Se busca un poeta. Al mrgen. 2005. Pgs. 22-31
*Este escrito fue producido en la clase de sociales y
filosofia. Pre ap class 11th grade.
Es el ensayo final desarrollado por los estudiantes en
esta clase con nfasis en filosofa.
Gabriel Muoz 9th Grade
21
ensayos
essays
EL EXISTENCIALISMO
ES UN HUMANISMO
Valentina Llins 12th Grade
El existencialismo es principalmente un
movimiento filosfico cuyo tema central de
reflexin es estrictamente la existencia. En
El Existencialismo es un Humanismo Jean
Paul Sartre define el existencialismo ms
especficamente como una filosofa que
hace posible la vida humana y que, por
otra parte, declara que toda verdad y toda
accin implican un medio y una subjetividad humana1. Aunque por un lado Sartre
simplemente aspira explicar su punto de
vista, este texto sirve como una defensa o
apologa para proteger su filosofa de los
reproches elaborados en su contra. Intenta
desmentir ciertas acusaciones y justificar
los diferentes aspectos del existencialismo,
para as poder callar las crticas.
Segn el autor, el existencialismo est basado en el concepto de que la esencia precede la existencia. el hombre empieza por
existir, se encuentra, surge en el mundo,
y despus se define.2 Es decir, el hombre
empieza por no ser nada y eventualmente
existe, pero solo llega a ser lo que l mismo se hace. Divide esta ideologa en dos
ramas, la primera representa la perspectiva
cristiana, y la segunda, la perspectiva atea.
El existencialismo cristiano consiste en que
los hombres ven a Dios como el creador y
protector de la humanidad. El hombre es
un ser propio, pero, como Dios nos cre
juntos, siempre debemos tener al prjimo
1. Sartre, JP. El Existencialismo es un Humanismo.
Edhasa. Pg. 23.
Edhasa. Pg. 31.
22
en cuenta y entender que la nica libertad

que existe es compartida. El existencialismo
ateo niega la existencia de un Dios, Dios
es una hiptesis intil y costosa, nosotros
la suprimimosnada cambiar si Dios no
existe; encontraremos las mismas normas
de honradez, de progreso, de humanismo3 Dice que sin ningn apoyo el hombre es responsable por todo lo que hace, y
por ende est libre, pues est comprometido cada instante a inventarse a si mismo.
Ya que hemos definido sintticamente los
pensamientos de Sartre en cuanto a los
diferentes existencialismos, es importante
aclarar que l es un existencialista ateo.
Ahora debemos entrar ms a fondo a explorar los diferentes reproches hechos por
sus crticos. Sin duda, hay algunos que logra desmentir, pero tiene varias explicaciones que no justifica bien. Prosigamos con
las acusaciones comunistas.
Estoy de acuerdo con los pensamientos
Marxistas. Ellos creen que el existencialismo invita a la gente a permanecer en un
quietismo de desesperacin.4 Si el hombre
no encuentra alguna solucin exterior, es
posible considerar que hay pocas opciones,
y que todas las soluciones estn cerradas.
Entonces el hombre entra en desespero,
pues se ve totalmente atrapado por los lmites del impedimento; lmites que frenan al
hombre a buscar ms all de l mismo.
Edhasa. Pg. 41.
Edhasa. Pg. 21.
No hay que luchar contra los poderes

establecidos, no hay que luchar contra la
fuerza, no hay que intentar elevarse por
encima de la propia condicin5 No se
trata de rebelarse, no se trata de elevarse
innecesariamente, simplemente se trata
de permitirse explorar el universo para encontrar ms respuestas. Acaso no es egocntrico pensar que todas las respuestas
ya estn establecidas dentro del hombre?
Acaso no es ridculo creer que el universo
fue creado enteramente alrededor del hombre? Hay muchas otras esencias que merecen reconocimiento, muchos otros factores
que afectan nuestra existencia. Cosas han
pasado, estn pasando, y seguirn pasando
aparte de nuestra existencia, son eventos
fuera de nuestro control, son ocurrencias
que van por encima de nosotros y vale la
pena tenerlas en cuenta. Hacer lo contrario
sera mediocre; hacer lo contrario sera encerrar al hombre intilmente.
A contrario de Sartre, yo creo en Dios, y
por esta misma razn estoy de acuerdo con
l cuando afirma que para el ateo es muy
incmodo que Dios no exista6 Realmente
es un beneficio poder sentir esa compaa.
Sartre dice que Dios es solo un apoyo al
cual aferrarse y critica al hombre cristiano
por culpar al ser superior en vez de responsabilizarse por sus acciones. Como Sartre,
me parece importante recordar que acumular culpas no es el propsito de Dios.
Sin embargo, aunque Dios no exista para
Sartre, y se sienta abandonado o desamparado, me parece extremista decir que se
debe obrar sin esperanza.7 Segn l, no
es necesario tener esperanzas para actuar;
el hombre con ilusiones se decepciona
ms a menudo. Dice que uno simplemente debe actuar y realizar lo que quiere, sin
esperar ser ms de lo que debe. Este pesimismo es innecesario, pues es importante
Edhasa. Pg. 25.
Edhasa. Pg. 41.
Edhasa. Pg. 53.
ensayos
essays
tener sueos y aspiraciones, ya que son

la incentiva para lograr el cometido. Jean
Paul Sartre est siendo mediocre otra vez,
pues ve al hombre desilusionado ante un
fracaso, en vez de ver al hombre aprendiendo de sus derrotas. La esperanza es el
comienzo, las acciones solo son el medio
para cumplir sus visiones.
Cuando Sartre cuenta la historia del alumno y la eleccin que debe hacer, se presenta el quietismo que exponen los Marxistas. Sartre coloca dos opciones como
las opciones fundamentales del existencialismo: escoger entre actuar para si
mismo, o actuar en funcin de los dems.
Aunque parezca lo contrario, es evidente que realmente no existe ninguna eleccin. Si el alumno escoge abandonar a su
madre, no solo est perjudicando a su madre sino a l mismo tambin. Si el alumno
escoge permanecer al lado de su madre
y ayudarla a vivir, no solo est afectando
a su madre sino a l mismo tambin. De
las dos maneras hay consecuencias para
ambos lados; las dos opciones tienen el
mismo resultado, por ende no existe la alternativa. El alumno est atrapado, pues
solo hay un posible desenlace.
Hacia el final del texto, Sartre defiende
al existencialismo de otro reproche ms,
entonces ustedes pueden hacer cualquier cosa8. Dice que esto no es del
todo exacto. Por un lado, la eleccin atrapa al existencialista. Aunque una persona
no elija, est eligiendo no elegir. No se
puede optar por no tomar responsabilidad
hacia un problema, pues al escoger esto
est escogiendo no responsabilizarse. Por
otro lado, el existencialista s es libre en
el momento creador, pues no existen lmites. Es cierto que el existencialismo dice
que se puede hacer cualquier cosa a
priori, pero se debe estar conciente de las
consecuencias que surgirn a posteriori.
No pueden ustedes juzgar a los dems
porque no hay razn para preferir un pro8. Sartre, JP. El Existencialismo es un Humanismo.
Edhasa. Pg. 69.
23
ensayos
essays
yecto a otro9 Sartre dice que esto es cierto porque es intil juzgar al hombre por lo
que es, pues todos son iguales. Tambin
dice que es cierto porque no creemos en
el progreso; el progreso es un mejoramiento; el hombre es siempre el mismo frente
a una situacin que varia10. Aunque estoy de acuerdo con lo primero, estoy en
desacuerdo con el segundo razonamiento,
pues yo s creo en el progreso. El hombre
es libre en su creacin, y cada da tiene la
oportunidad para recrearse. Esta oportunidad surge al aprender de pasadas experiencias e intentar progresar y no cometer los
mismos errores. Debido a esto, el hombre
vive en un constante cambio y no siempre
es el mismo frente a una situacin. Sartre
est ignorando la evolucin; el hombre
siempre busca la perfeccin, y por esto
esta constantemente mejorando; est tratando de corregir o evadir errores pasados.
Por otro lado, dice que esta afirmacin es
falsa, porque existen las malas elecciones.
Estas son aquellas fundadas en el error,
hechas por hombres de mala fe. Un hombre de mala fe es aquel que sabe que est
errando pero no se lo acepta ni a l mismo. Estos son los nicos hombres que se
pueden juzgar, pues defino su mala fe
como un error. 11
Despus Sartre entra en una contradiccin.
Dice que los hombres solo pueden ser libres juntos, pues la libertad de uno depende enteramente de la libertad de todos. Por
otro lado, dice que el compromiso es libre,
pues no siempre ests sujeto a algo. Segn
su primera afirmacin cada hombre est sujeto al resto de la humanidad, es su obligacin tomar la libertad de todos como fin. La
segunda contradice esto enteramente, pues
es absurdo decir que el hombre tenga una
obligacin y luego decir que no siempre
est sujeto a algo. Como dijo Sartre ante9. Sartre, JP. El Existencialismo es un Humanismo.
Edhasa. Pg. 69.
Edhasa. Pg. 75.
Edhasa. Pg. 76.
24
riormente, la eleccin de cualquier hombre

compromete a toda la humanidad, por ende
el hombre s esta siempre sujeto a algo.
De acuerdo con estas reflexiones se ve
que nada es ms injusto que las objeciones que se nos hacen.12 Despus de un
texto lleno de incoherencias, contradicciones y falta de fluidez, es pedante de
Sartre asumir que ha logrado aclararle
algo al lector. Su propsito es defender su
filosofa; su propsito es convencer al lector que el existencialismo no es culpable
de ninguna de las acusaciones mencionadas. Puede parecer un poco exigente reclamarle a un autor su falta de claridad,
pero al escribir un texto persuasivo, el
autor se est comprometiendo a un cierto grado de organizacin y transparencia
para lograr su cometido. El autor expresa
su filosofa y explica varias ideas, adems
es muy convincente en su forma de escribir. No niego que haya estado de acuerdo
con algunos de sus ideales, ni que haya
aprendido a ver a la humanidad de una
manera muy diferente. De todas maneras,
confunde mucho al lector, pues aunque a
veces se vuelve redundante, deja muchos
temas inconclusos y afirmaciones a falta
de mayor justificacin.
Debo aceptar que termina su texto con
unas conclusiones muy bien puestas. No
es que creamos que Dios existe, sino que
pensamos que el problema no es el de su
existencia; es necesario que el hombre se
encuentre a s mismo y se convenza de
que nada puede salvarlo de s mismo, ni
siquiera una prueba valedera de la existencia de Dios.13 Esta s es una afirmacin
clara, y vlida, pero de todas formas no
logra convencerme. Yo pienso que no es
exactamente Dios el que nos salva, sino
la fe que tenemos en l. Es una esperanza
que nos mueve y nos anima a conquistar
nuestras aspiraciones; no es una salvacin
sino un apoyo.
Edhasa. Pg. 86.
Edhasa. Pg. 86.
Nuestra desesperacin como creyentes no

es tener una prueba valedera de su existencia, para qu es necesaria? Es exactamente esa misma ilusin ciega la que nos
ilumina; la que nos ayuda y acompaa a
encontrarnos a nosotros mismos. La fe que
el hombre tiene en Dios es una fe que se
tiene a l mismo, pues creer en Dios a
quien ms beneficia aparte del creyente? Si
alguien cree en Dios, se est permitiendo
una proteccin y un amparo inmortal, se
est extendiendo la oportunidad de triunfar. Sartre no entiende que nuestra desesperacin tampoco es la misma existencia
de Dios, sino las ganas que el hombre tiene de ayudarse a si mismo.
El existencialismo es una filosofa egocntrica, pues no deja que el hombre busque
ayuda, ya que asume que todo se encuentra dentro de l. Esto encierra al hombre
y lo lleva a ser cobarde, pues no se atreve a buscar respuestas alternas, y le teme
descubrir que no todo en la vida tiene
respuestas, que no todo en la vida es una
garanta slida. Llmese conformista, llmese desesperado, pero el cristiano es lo
ensayos
essays
suficientemente valiente para olvidarse de

las respuestas -que al final son lo menos
importante- y vivir a punta de pura fe.
Aunque Jean Paul Sartre se expresa desorganizadamente y no logra ser del todo convincente, su arbitraje por el existencialismo
ateo claramente despierta muchas controversias. De cierta manera esto cumple uno
de sus varios propsitos, pues fomenta el
conocimiento del existencialismo y despierta opiniones sobre l. No es amigable
con el lector, pues est constantemente a
la defensiva y en partes uno se siente hasta
atacado. Sin embargo, se mantiene firme
en su punto de vista. A pesar de todo, Sartre parece ser un hombre decidido; y por
esto lo respeto muchsimo. Adems, fue
esta misma pertinacia la que caus furor
alrededor del mundo y le dio tanto reconocimiento en la filosofa universal.
Este escrito fue producido en la clase de sociales y

filosofa. Pre ap class 11th grade. Es el ensayo final
desarrollado por los estudiantes en esta clase con nfasis en filosofa.
Mariana Pardo 9th Grade
25
Laura Aparicio 11th Grade
Mara Alejandra Echavarra 9th Grade
Julin Uribe 12th Grade
Camila Lobo-Guerrero 9th Grade
26
poems
poemas
poemas
poems
Procrastination
Andrea ngel 9th Grade
Andrea, do your homework NOW!!

Stop screaming I started hours ago
(not really)
Okay so heres the deal:
I have an essay to write
(Its due tomorrow)
I dont want to.
(First period)
It doesnt interest me.
I dont like it.
I hate the teacher.
Why do I have to write it??
Okay I sit down I have my things
Now Im ready to start here we go
kay Im really ready
I spelled my name wrong what a silly mistake
Wheres the eraser??
Okay my names right. I have everything ready
Now whats the question??
Ahh I dont have my paper
Wheres the paper??
Okay I have the topic Im ready to continue
Hmm I didnt eat lunch did I?
I should eat something before I get started
its not good to work on an empty stomach
What should I eat??
Okay I have my chips my soda
I can finally get started
Hmm just one more sip
Oh no Im such a clutz, I spilled my soda
Where are the paper towels?
Andrea what are you doing
in the kitchen, again?!?
I made a mess Im getting paper towels,
hill (I really have to start that essay)
28
poemas
poems
Okay no more mess.

I can really sit down and do this now
Now whats the question again oh yeah
I forgot to tell Carolina what I heard Felipe saying today
Wheres my cell phone??
Okay seriously, how could she say that to him??
I think I might as well get started on my math homework for next week.
Ill do my essay later.
Wheres my math book??
Okay now that thats done I need a break.
Grays Anatomy is almost on.
Hmm I guess I should probably go watch it.
Wheres the remote control?
Okay that was definitely the best episode ever.
Dinner is almost ready.
I should go sit down.
Whats for dinner?
Okay that was a nice and fun dinner.
I should probably get started on that science project due in 2 months
You know I dont want to get behind. The essay can wait.
Wheres that sheet of paper?
Okay Im done with that part of the project
I think Im going to go to sleep
Ill wake up early and do the essay.
Wheres my pajama?
4:30 AM
Okay its definitely too early.
Im going to sleep for another while
Ill do it on the bus.
Wheres that button for the alarm?
Okay so its way too early to go to school
I hate being so uncomfortable on the bus.Ill do it when I get to school.
Wheres my ipod?
Okay so I see Carolina walking up to me
I have to hear what she says it wont take long.
The essay is short.
Where did Carolina go?
Okay so Im sitting in class
And I dont have my essay.
I need to learn not to procrastinate so much.
29
poemas
poems
I will fight
Catalina Herrera9th Grade
(Dedicated to Andrew McMahon)
I felt no pain,
Yet darkness came upon me.
All my efforts were in vain.
Doctors said it was hard to save me.
Never had I felt like that,
Devastated, desolate, and destroyed,
I could feel the soul of cancer,
Slowly penetrating my body,
But I couldnt give up.
There are things that are worth giving up life for,
But I wont let this get me.
I will fight!
I was determined,
I had to fight
I wouldnt stay still, watching the sky
I had to make a difference - a change.
After a fierce fight with cancer , I had finally won.
I was strong!
And now I will fight for others.
I will help them find the strength
To carry on with their battles.
I will never give up.
Nothing will ever stop me.
I will fight!
30
poemas
poems
Consolation
Chang Won Lee 12th Grade
Snow makes sky gray
When it falls, but after that,
Sky looks clearer, and
The world becomes brighter
The snow, which covers all,
Melts and becomes water
That washes blue and black,
And itself soaks into colors
Dont think you are let alone
No one is; Of course I dont
Even if you stay alone,
Heaven and Ground have
Come to you, always
Hardship is just wind
That makes stones smooth
Tears also can water the plants
As
The sun and moon rise,
You are the existence
Who overcomes all things
<Love>
One day, a seed fell into a hole of a stone
The seed worried because the stone looked cold and hard
But, in contrast to the seeds worry, the stone was warm, besides,
With soft raining, the seed could grow without problems
The seed became a sprout and the sprout became a tree
The seed, which became a tree, worried stone would break
And leave
And just as the worry, the stone was broken. Cause of its big roots.
But, to contrast the seeds worry, the stone didnt leave
Couldnt leave
Because root, wind, and hug
Hold..
31
poemas
poems
Before the Man was gone

Im preparing to go to the round rope
I am a murderer and I am guilty
I showed off my ability to use guns in front of others, but now
I.yeah, it was my fault. It hurt my parents, who raised me
My father and mother are Christian and I was also taught the same
But, I had instincts to hate others who are better than me
Finally, I killed someone and, unluckily, there was a witness.
Was it lucky for him? orwas it unlucky for me?...anyway..
Thats why I got arrested and was sentenced to death
I have no self-confidence to meet anyone
Strangely, my mind and my body are calm and quiet
Like a corpse..yeah, like a corpse
I..Ihate the night. To be more precise, I hate the darkness
How many times I wish all of this was just a dream! Dream..!...Dream..
...I miss my mom and dad..
Lately, I wonder if my relatives are in grief for me
No, people are the same as ashes. Theyre nothing after all
It would be better if there was at least a friend.
Want to smoke..When did I start to smoke?.....It was.
Number 1987! Meeting!
They always say that when they take out the man who is sentenced to death that
day..
Its my number!
The heart pumps rapidly, and cold sweat flows down my back..!
Oh! Why did I do this! Who was I that I laughed at the poor guy in front of him?
It was too heavy. As I said, I was sensitive at that time.
I remember I used to avoid school detention like that
I laugh, recalling that time, but within my laughing, there is no reality, not a real
laugh.
There are two roads for prisoners;
One leading to life, and the other one to death.
I heard that prisoners who are sentenced to death go through the left side
And I go that way!!! What?! Am I going to the left side?
No..Iwho was sentenced to death..
Those words are pressing down on me.yeah, I thought that.
Someday, I will be a corpse.there is no hope in this jailfor me
The two officers grabbing me are too calm to speak
32
poemas
poems
I have no power to act and even I think its strange.

Many lights are getting darker..and the walls around me become yellow
Calm down for death.this will be quiet. silence in the world.
Its too dark to see.but the walking pace isnt slowing down.
I feel its too dark..is this an evidence that I am still alive?
Abrupt brightness!
Am I dead? Am I seeing heaven?!
Destiny is cold and blue
This chamber is a little bigger than my room.
In the middle, there is a small light.
There are many horrible officers!
And..one black curtain..inside.Jesus Christ.?!
Im hear the Father coming to me and blessing me
Oh.If only the priest was my real father, Id confess to him
I feel that the Fathers blessing is vain..
You are the Father?! Ha!! Funny!....Youre just a fraud after all!!!!!
And someone is coming to me? Who is he?....
He is saying something..
..Prisoner number 1987 sentenced to hang and die. March, 23rd, 2067.
And a man gives me a cigarette.turns on the light.
Im feeling the smoke in my heart..
But, I feel no relief as I did before..
It makes my tongue rot, my organs are pulled out, and my soul is swollen.
I realized why smoke is bad after all..vain
Ive finished smoking..
Ahhhhha!!!!!!!!!!
Stop resisting!! Hold him!!
Get him!!!
Stop shouting!! Son!!!
This way! Hurry!!
OK! Pull!
..
..
Wow, he was strong..
Well, he might be really afraid; Im sure, hmmm.
Come on, lets finish this and go out to eat something. Im starving.
33
poemas
poems
Yearning
A rock is divided into shingles
A shingle is split into many grains of sand
And the sand, is scattered with
Water and wind
Stars live far from each other
Brighten each other, although
They have no sense, cannot touch
Like this,
What you transformed and
Where you live.
<Solitude>
I grow my hair
The hair grows
And covers my body
One day,
I began to grow my hair
That I ever cannot cut
<Regret>
Once upon a time,
One sculptor made a rose
While looking over it
He figured out there was something
That made him irritable, so he cut it
After cutting it, he found two sharp parts
He also made the parts smooth
He found other rough parts
And cut them, and made them smooth
The rose was losing its shape,
And, finally, the shape became
The sculptor, himself
The sculptor shed his tears,
But he couldnt put it back together
34
poemas
poems
Deadalive
Daniel Snchez Ojalvo 12th Grade
The void
It consumes ALL
It makes ALL feel like dark is light.
Great darkness
An even bigger loneliness
It makes an all consuming end.
Darkness
Makes you be alone.
The feeling consumes your soul.
A ray of light
Shines through the sky.
It is only in her desperate presence I feel
DEADALIVE
35
poemas
poems
Will I Ever Understand?

Daniela Builes 10th Grade
The big black universe,
A mystery to humankind.
Stars shooting across the horizon
Leaving a distant echo behind.
Its huge distance is revealing
While you have a chilly feeling.
Everything around is infinite,
Portraying emptiness and curiosity.
The sound of the waves
Crashing gently with the sand,
Give you a sense of peace.
You can almost smell the sea salt
And the soft whistling of the palm trees
Moving with the winds rhythm.
When you look up, you start wondering again,
About the big black universe.
As you look again,
You make a wish
From the brief silhouette of shooting star.
And you think to yourself,
Will I ever understand?
36
poemas
poems
A Moment
Gabriel Gonzlez 10th Grade
In the coast of passion,
There lies a lonely beach,
Where the waves and the wind
Will make you reach
A state of harmony
A moment of peace,
And the blowing of the wind
Will move all trees.
A wonderful image
Of the colorful sky,
With its vivid colors
In the sand will make you lie.
While its state changes,
From day to night,
Now you cant see
The natural light.
With the moonlight that lightens
The paths of the love,
In the sky will appear
A beautiful dove.
There is no time,
No minutes, no hours.
Theres only a moment
Of peace that is ours.
37
poemas
poems
For you Id
Gabriel Salazar 12th Grade
Please dont cry
To drown my heart with your tears
To cut my wrists and bleed for you
Id be outside with music giving you
Words that I cant say
To write beauty on paper
To write perfection in my mind
To write obscurity in my heart
To write love with my blood
If we were to share pain
Id love you and hope not to be in vain
To bleed for you a non stop river
Of commitment and trust.
To cry black tears on a summer day
Please dont cry
Shed no lonesome tears, for Id
Bleed for you
Like an angel your rise, my sun
But never set it
Like a friend, you give me gentle
Kisses that death would envy.
Like a nose, you create a new form
Of perfection
You are my nothing
For nothing lasts for ever
Please dont cry
Or cry and drown me in sorrow
Be my rose, so when I cut myself
On your thorns! ill bleed for you .
38
poemas
poems
I am
Gabriel Salazar 10th Grade
Im a
Prisoner, trapped in my own mind.
Hypocrite, but not alone.
Nobody, no real self lost in my own
depression.
Human, flawed with no sense of reality.
Son, loving, controlled, over-powered,
hollow, loved
Lover, passionate,, comforting, but hopeless.
I need:
A father, loving, loyal, proud, but yet another liar.
To have come so far, but with no direction since the beginning.
39
poemas
poems
One, Two, Three

Johanna Goossens 11th Grade
One, two, three,
One, two, three.
Im counting them,
As I watch them fall.
Tiny beads,
Of dying deeds.
One, two three,
One, two, three.
Divine intervention cannot prevent them,
Praying will not bring out the sun.
The drops are here to stay,
Throughout the entire day.
One, two, three,
One, two, three.
They swell and drip,
They cannot be caught;
Before they cover me
And my world in a new sea.
One, two, three,
One, two, three.
If I watch them,
They do not sparkle
And they do not shine.
As they intend to seal a fate thats
inevitably mine.
One, two, three,
One, two, three.
40
I cannot run for cover

So I stand beneath them waiting,
Waiting for the drench
As my fists clench.
One, two, three,
One, two, three.
I can hear them now,
Their yelling and screaming,
And crying
And dying.
One, two, three,
One, two, three.
But then they are silenced,
With their joy,
As they soak me through and through
And cast a new hue.
One, two, three,
One, two, three.
Theyve marked me now,
And will never let go.
I look up and I see my more,
And I know that I will never even the
score.
One, two, three.
poemas
poems
I thought I said goodbye

I thought I said goodbye,
And now youre back to torture me.
I thought I could forget,
But then, today, you sent me a memory.
A nightmare,
That I wanted to forget;
And I thought it would be easy,
But your face is back to haunt me.
And the reminder of you....yourself,
Sent me down the river.
Not you but I.........was sent screaming
and drowning, down the river of my past.
To remise with it,
But I dont love it.
And I want to float, but all I do is sink.....
Because you sent me a memory,
Of us, of we,
That thing we used to be.
And through the misty river theres my
light, that I came to love,
But I still worship the dark,
And cant forget its charm.
But the light keeps me warm,

And if it left I would cry,
But since youve been gone
I couldnt forget.
Because today, you sent me a memory.
I was flying within a cloudy wonderland,
But Ive been shot down by love,
And now Ive got to join the rest
In the butcher shop.
With holes in various places,
And tears in various eyes.
Is where Ill be,
Hiding from my wonderland.
Cause I love the blood,
And worship the knife
But I wish it would cut me from you,
Cut me away,
And let me fly,
To the place I want to be,
But cannot get to.
My wonderland
The place to say goodbye.
41
poemas
poems
Perfect
Flawless imperfection.
Ghost upon your body,
Death marked your body, your
disproportionate hands.
Your flesh bleeds,
To heal away,
Memories of a single day.
Flawless imperfection.
Simple satisfaction.
Forgotten secret words,
Unfinished response.
Future lust,
Settling dust,
To love me another day.
Dying rationality.
Constant lasting, lighted fuse;
Constant fear of what you might do.
Cant breath without it burning.
Cant feel without the fear,
In apparition of a tear.
Dying rationality.
Still boredom.
Exciting routine,
Constant satisfied simplicity.
Sexual loneliness,
Fulfilled appreciation.
Intertwined persons.
Still boredom.
Always me, being always you.
Every inch discovered,
Every nerve recovered,
Every feeling owned.
Nothing missing, everything gone.
Always you, being always me.
Perfect.
Flawless imperfection,
Simple satisfaction,
Dying rationality,
Still boredom,
Perfect.
42
poemas
poems
Cement
Cement dries in the shape of a tear,
But doesnt fall, like once when I was sad.
Instead it surrounds me, because now I
am glad;
Glad for the sweet grip it has on me,
Glad for the immobility, making me see,
The little amount of fear between he and me.
This tear is cold, in its invisibility,
But it keeps me warm
And nothing can do me harm.
As long as frozen shards stay away,
And it continues to feel like break of day.
Its like this I wish to stay.
However, someday,
This cement might break away.
Leaving behind a memory
Of us, of we.
A beautiful thing,
That through all days, I want to cling.
Nothing could tamper,
Or destroy,
These perfect jewels of joy.
But it still wouldnt be okay,
If this ends one day.
Colors entrancing,
Intricate designs prancing,
Keep my eyes from straying
And my heart praying;
Praying that heaven might keep me,
Praying that forever, like this, we be.
In unbashfull fascination,
And lustful temptation.
Cement is not easy to break,
And much could it take.
As for the girl inside,
She loves her world, her life, her light,
Even if we fight.
Always will she see,
The beauty in he,
Even if he is blind,
She will always see that cement is kind.
43
poemas
poems
Zidane
Juan C. Tamayo 10th Grade
In a hot, cold night,
A great hero awaits a fight.
Experienced and skillful like a knight
People expect a great show tonight.
Giving the soccer ball a life of its own
Zinedine delights us with his show.
He is a hero among us all
Who gives joy to young and old.
He became so furious he could explode.
Bum! He gave a head butt to a foe.
He later said he was not himself,
Yet, could he have done something else?
He retired after this,
and the Golden Ball he claimed as his.
Some might disagree,
but a hero, he will always be.
44
poemas
poems
Infinite Transition
Juliana Gmez 10th Grade
Darkness, Isolation space,
Floating tranquility silence.
Movement through dense air.
Bright stars illuminate the path
Enormous planets,
Colors and rings.
Lonely.
I realize who I really am,
Get to know myself,
Concentrate in my soul, my feelings,
More stars, less gravity.
No thinking, more floating.
A planetMixture of browns greens and blues.
Hug myself and bend my knees,
Falling.
Cold air touching my skin.
Cold blood through my veins,
Cold
Soft clouds, pure air.
Tranquility, peace.
I can hear my heart beating,
My breathing.
I feel tired, fall asleep.
No color, no feelings, no sound,
Nothing
Wake up, all possible tones of greens.
Warmth of solar rays.
Start walking,
Millions of tall trees,
Miniature animals.
Sweet bird melodies,
Happiness.
Upward, most beautiful blue.
A huge yellow circle.
Wonderful contrast,
Days passed
And I kept on walking

Through the infinite forest.
Tired, fell asleep.
Sound of crushing waves,
Immense white circle
In a plain black space.
Prettiest ocean
Moon indicated a clear path. Smell of
purity.
Warm water soaking my feet.
Unique sensation.
Darkness under the
Pressure of the waves.
No color, no sound,
Just the friction of
The water and my skin
Kept on swimming.
Exhaustion, feel asleep.
Scales of fish touching
My feet.
My heart beat faster.
Noise disruption,
Tall buildings, more people.
Crowded .
Uncomfortable feeling attacked.
I looked at everyone
Nobody looked at me.
Cold and dark
No yellow, no green, no white, no blue.
Invisible person
Couldnt hear my breathing or my heart.
Cars motors
Disrupted my ears,
No tranquility.
Preoccupation,
Surrounded by people,
But still alone.
Tired, fell asleep.
45
poemas
poems
And I lost you for ever

Laura Steiner 12th Grade
I saw you coming.
I had seen you forever in my dreams.
I had felt you so close to me already.
I knew your smell,
Your voice,
Your figure,
I closed my eyes
And there you were.
So pretty,
So magnificent,
So real.
I never imagined you would arrive so fast.
Behind the door, I saw your hand.
I recognized it.
I knew every single part of it.
It was all stuck in my memory.
There was absolutely no way of forgetting it.
Your hand was mine,
In my dreams, you were mine.
But then you became real,
And I lost you forever.
46
poemas
poems
Endless
Endless,
A word that also means continuous
An adjective that revokes the word finish
A state of mind with no closing phase
A future that well never see
Our passion to make our dreams come true
The bliss in our first true love
The rejoice of a childs birth
Our broken hearts when someone we
love leaves us forever
A drive to fight for our lives
But, beyond eternal
Beyond infinite
Beyond excitement
Beyond our true wishes
Endless,
Is a quality all humans long we could have.
47
poemas
poems
Fighting for what I Really Want

Miguel Pombo 10th Grade
I stand here in the dark side of the moon
Feeling happy as, I play with friends.
Suddenly, I crash,
And as I turn around,
A sensation, even greater
Than love, overwhelmed me.
I feel satisfied and joyful,
But as I turn my whole body to grab it,
It then goes a step away from me,
I take another step but it goes
Even farther from my reach.
I suddenly realize that that sense
Of achieving what I long for,
Will always be a step beyond,
Always out of my reach, untouchable.
I then stop, and watch it divinely.
It always keeps my head above
Water, always in the real world,
Fighting to keep me going for
What I really want.
48
poemas
poems
The Light that Called Me

Pablo Vacca 10th Grade
While seeing the mighty waves
of a midnight ocean
The stars that made a journey
From their far away sediments,
Came and died on the bottom
Of the ocean.
The dying light of the stars
Lit my way through a
Steep cliff.
Full of sharp turns and uncertainties,
It was my way up that cliff,
To a point where all was mute,
To a point where the wind didnt blow,
To a point that the only light I could see
Was the opaque light that
Called me.
To a point where I had to jump high.
Although I didnt feel the void,
I felt a feeling of peace that made me
eager to run faster,
Towards the break.
Until finally
I submerged into a sea that made me unleash
new feelings.
49
poemas
poems
The Fall
Nack Choon Jung 11th Grade
There is no turning back; Ive made my decision, to jump.
I stare down below, into the black, eternal darkness.
Then I jump, soaring into the night for a moment.
Soon after, I fall into the darkness below me.
10th floor. I see my reflection on the window as I fall.
Oh, the shocked faces, which dont matter to me.
All the memories of pain on this floor,
All the hatred, rushes in my head.
9th floor. Death, all about death, nothing more than
Death. Losing a friend, living a life knowing that Ill
Never see him again. I miss the man, and now,
I finally fall towards him, getting to meet him.
8th floor. When I was hurt the most by a friendly
Living person. The day he stabbed me in the
Back. There is no turning back, Im ready
For the fall. There is no turning back.
7th floor. I remember those hard days, when I had to
Make a decision. To choose money over a friend.
I had no choice. I chose money. The friend was
In despair. Cant think back, just the fall.
6th floor. The floor that I live in with my parents.
Shouts that I heard when I failed my senior year.
So close to ending hell in High School. All just a
Failure, all about the grades, all for nothing.
50
poemas
poems
5th floor. I see the face of a boy in the room.

Crying, he throws his fists towards another boy.
Fights They seem to build friendship, but
Cause everything to fall apart as well.
4th floor. Lies, just simple lies, that slowly
Eat away. Lies that lead to so many things
Like death, lies of hate, going in circles,
Going nowhere until the end.
3rd floor. Gave everything away,
Everything I can possibly think of,
But finding myself alone, I fall, without
Regret, nothing to lose, gave everything away.
2nd floor. My house that I lived in when I
Was 10 had two floors. My 10th birthday
Party was the best; pool party with my
Best friends, lots of gifts, good times.
1st floor. I decided to jump. The fall
Taught me so many things. Now I
See the end. I hate this life and world
But I do wish to go back to my childhood.
51
poemas
poems
Puritan Literature
in Shakespearean Style
Phil Smiley 10th Grade
Brian: Do you recall what the pastor said,
The speech he so passionately read?
Phil: I do, in fact. I remember it well.
He told us all about the fires of hell.
Gabriel: Well, I know it better than you
For I was sitting in the second pew
Brian: Then you both should know a sinners fate,
What awaits him at the fiery gate.
Out of guilt I must confess to you
A story I swear to be completely true.
I was making a bed for my newborn daughter
When I slipped on a puddle of water
I fell over and hit my head
On the side of my brand-new bed.
And when I felt the crushing pain
I couldnt help but to say the lords name in vain.
I said it loud for all to hear,
But thankfully none was around for it to reach their ears.
I made up a story and quickly lied
Now you know my dreadful sin,
Perhaps I should turn myself in
Gabriel: No you cant, because I have sinned as well.
A sin that surely will have me cast in hell,
The crop I planted a year ago:
Is mean and stubborn and refuses to grow.
I work so hard with all my might
I work so hard all day and night
But it doesnt grow, it never does
I must be scorns from up above.
So I went to the house across the street
And waited until they were fast asleep.
I crept round back and picked the lock
Then I stole every single piece of they crop
The next morning they woke up in alarm
When they saw someone had robbed their barn
W hen the neighborhood asked about it, I lied,
52
poemas
poems
A lie that hurt me deep inside.
Phil: You guys have it made
I dont know why you complain.
My family was sitting by the fireside,
When a noise came from the outside. I went to go investigate
When I saw a man go by the gate.
He was tired and scruffy and looked old.
He was shivering in the freezing cold.
He asked if I had a place to stay,
But he told me he had nothing to pay.
I said that I had no food not even a bed.
No place for him to rest his head.
With remorse I sent him off,
Left him to shiver in this greasy cloth.
Its been to long years since that dreadful day
When I sent the poor man away.
That moment haunts me all the time
I felt that I committed a crime.
Brian: Remember how the pastor spoke,
Like a swimmer never missing a stroke.
Gabriel: I remember how he fixed his eyes on me.
Like a sailor with his eyes cast on the sea.
Phil: Do you think that he knows
That our guilt is so bad it shows?
Brian: No, Its impossible that he found out,
Unless he heard my shout.
But he would have told me so
Theres no way he could possibly know!
Gabriel: Theres no way he could know what I did.
Unless he was in the bushes and hid,
Watching me take every last crop
If he did why didnt he tell me to stop?
Phil: I doubt he could have seen me act of shame,
He wasnt the man without a name.
Why would he do such a thing?
Just to see me sin
Brian: I think that we should confess,
Just so we would pass the pastors test
Gabriel: I think that would be the best,
But then we could lay down to rest
Phil: Lying about what we have done is a pest!
We should indeed confess
53
poemas
poems
A Darkness Surrounds
Rodrigo Zamora 10th Grade
A fear in sight,
On a dark corner in my day.
Even though theres light,
I cannot imagine what it looks like.
Finally I see a tower

Destroyed by the fire rain.
An evil dragon of my past
Almost in ruins.
Trapped inside a wall,

Inside a cold dark moor,
Leading my way,
Guiding my thoughts.
Looking at the fire sky,

I hide behind a rock,
To protect that little flower of yours.
Lonely heart, cold desperation,

Suffering,
Looking to the sky
In vain.
As I promised that very same night

To the eyes of the thunders,
I will give you this flower back
The day I propose my love.
With only a sword to fight

I have to swing a careful cut,
Slashing my way out to darkness,
Just to find a cold sunny day.
With courage I grab my sword

Out of its leather hold.
After I have defeated darkness

I continue walking
And as I lay there, gazing at the sky.
My body is numb and my throat is dry.
Desperate and alone,
I lead my path
Across a spinal road.
Barefoot and with your flower.
I swam across a river of tears.
Also mixed up with my sweat.
Which I got for fighting
Just for you.
54
With a simple swing Im done.

He is finished and Im gone.
Riding a force greater than my will
I feel numb and dry
Warmer than ever,
Not even cold.
I do not miss you anymore.
I do not.
I dont even care,
Since Ive found love.
poemas
poems
Ronaldinho
Santiago Santos 10th Grade
Black as coal,
Hungry as a tiger,
There goes Ronaldinho,
A mid-field fighter.
Bright as a star,
He shines in the field.
The ball is his friend
until the game comes to an end.
In Gremio he began.
In France he continued.
In Spain as a dream,
Barcelona is his team.
The World Player of the Year,
His smile will never drop,
And with a 40-yard free kick,
Gave Brazil the fifth World Cup.
Gaucho from Rio Grande do Sul
inho as in little.
Words that unite
To form the famous Ronaldinho.
You feel happy and sad
When he makes a goal.
Sad for the team
Which wont reach its dream!
But Ronaldinho
Will always be the same,
As he prepares
For the next game!
55
poemas
poems
Remember Home
Sofia Millan 11th Grade
Seagulls in the sky
Flying,
I dont know why.
Roaming high,
Chirping
Uncovering a lie.
The sunset behind
Gave us a sign
That allowed us to remind
Remember our past,
Remember our origin,
Remember our home.
56
biographies
biografas
biografas
biographies
ALONE,WITH MY THOUGHTS
Sahar Herbol 12th Grade
Since the day I was born, Ive been traveling around the world. Fatherless, my mother
took up the responsibilities of acting both parts; the girly parts as well as the male parts.
Wherever I move, Im always asked, Where does your father work? My response has
always been the same: I dont have one or I dont know who he is. I always get the
same look, the look of sympathy in their eyes, which leads them to further questions. I
guess for me it makes no difference, I dont really feel like Im missing out on anything.
I think my mom did the best job she could to raise me, as well as my brothers. She did
a wonderful job acting both parts, mother and father. Its true; I wonder what it would
have been like, tossing the baseball around in the backyard with a dad; being daddys
little girl. It gets me curious. But then, I sit down and think about what I have right now,
how fortunate I am, and I dont ever want to change any of it. I love change, dont get
me wrong, but changing family, I dont think Im capable of doing. I love it being just
me, my brothers and my mom. I couldnt see another man in the picture, taking on the
responsibilities of a dad, because if I needed a dad, he would have needed to be there
since my birth.
Speaking of change, traveling is one of many things that makes me happy. Its one of the
few things that makes me whole. Being only 16, I find myself fortunate to have seen so
many amazing places, learned so many amazing things, that I can cherish, keep forever
and look back on. Yet I dont fear traveling, I fear loosing individuals who are close to
me. I become close with someone and Im happy with what I have, and the next thing I
see is me on a plane moving to a different place, a different community, a different atmosphere, where I dont know anyone but myself. I was brave before, when I was younger,
and now, Im not stable enough anymore to move, especially when I make close friends.
A man once said, The world is a book, and those who do not travel, read only one page
(Augustine). I have to remember this to keep me going.
People are asked what their fears are. Another one of my fears is death. Im afraid of what
happens before and after, and the pain involved. It is hard to explain to another why Im
afraid of dying. I sit and picture, what it would be like, and all I see is black. Im happy
with what I have at this point, and I dont want it to go away. I dont want to leave loved
ones behind; I dont want it to ever end!
58
biografas
biographies
CHAINED TO A BRIDGE
Im standing on a bridge with you, a never ending bridge; one thats new, unworn, not
finished. Beneath us run the waters of my soul, of swirling guns, bloody drops and rippling corpses. Youre the only one I havent forgotten; out of hundreds of people in eight
different countries, youre the only one still with me, and the only one I wish to be gone.
Because it is you and no one else, it seems as though the demons in the water of my past
will not come back to haunt me. Not the murder of Kirsten and her mother, the suicide
of her brother, the death of Julie, the loss of Sandy or forgotten family. Their faces are
dim when they should be bright, but yours is the only one I see. However, I remember
their pain because of the holes in my face and the fear that will last forever. All these
marks they do me harm-just like when I pretend and try to be something false. They both
have been caused by me and are unable to be undone. I pretend that I have tried and
accomplished a euphoric sense of self-worth, when all the while, I am still the mad cow
disease from the 5th grade. And I am still a drone locked in a cage trying to escape these
hollow classrooms. Institutions that control everything that make us human; desire, ability, choice, thought, speech, hope, persona. And for the past 11 years, I have been a bird
with clipped wings and blind eyes, not able to see or be part of the world outside my
guarded fortress of existence. Surrounded by my darkness, I do not know the light, but
someday I hope it to be a knife, a knife to cut me away from this bridge. Instead of feet, I
will want wings. Wings on which I will soar to aid the ones like me. To help the lost and
feed the hungry. With these white wings, I will warm the cold and protect the innocent.
Also, with these powerful wings, I will tear down the walls enclosing the potential and
hiding the talent. With these sharp wings, I will cut ALL away from their lined bridges and
let them soar through unknown air and crisp curiosity.
Camilo Gutirrez 11th Grade
59
60
Alba Cotton 11th Grade
Martn Gutirrez 11th Grade
letters
cartas
61
cartas
letters
Letter
Andrea Angel 9th Grade
Im sorry. Will sorry count this time? I dont really know how to tell you other than like
this- you make it impossible to speak to you. I know I mess up sometimes, okay, most
of the time, and I know that I am a frustrating person to live with, but we are totally different. You are so organized and on topic and prepared. I am crazy. I dont know if I am
going up or down, left or right. Life is more like something to have fun with for me, when
for you, you want something more. A person as great as you should not suffer as much as
I make you,, yet I love you because you do not give up EVER!! And thank you.
Thank you for being the greatest. I never really say thank you. You are there. That is what
you do, but you are so much more than just there. You have helped me with everything.
Thank you for not killing me... yet Haha. How can you still stand me?
You would think that now would come the youre welcome part or something like that,
but there isnt because there cant be. I have done nothing to receive a youre welcome
from you. You would probably think, Oh well you are nice to your brothers and you
are a great person at heart you know the usual, taking under consideration that this
is about the 524658454 millionth letter I write to you. But lets face it, in this society we
are living in now, being nice does not mean anything to anyone. I am nice at times, but
most of the time, I am a ****. Theres just no other way to put it.

I look at you. You look as if you are reading, but those papers in your hand are
the last thing on your mind. Your throat seems to be choking and you want to cry, but
you cant. Youre strong. You hold it in. Your eyes get wide and start to water, but not
one single tear will fall because to you, this life is for the fittest and you are it. You may be
little, but, oh, you are strong, not only physically but mentally as well. You are beautiful
and VERY smart as to ever show defeat to your own children. To show us that we have
broken you I dont think we have, yet.
Why cant you talk to me?!! Please, just look at me and tell me, I feel like ****! You
make me feel this way! You are horrible to me and I cant take it anymore. Oh, how I
wish that you could finally say it. How I want you to tell me how horrible I am! I know
how I am to you; I dont mean to, I just do. And that is wrong of me very. When you
say that, you cant expect an answer because I wont have one at the moment.
Im sorry for EVERYTHING! Thank you for EVERYTHING! And I love you for EVERYTHING! Because after every time we talk, fight, laugh or cry together you teach me so
much. Mam, te amo!!
62
cartas
letters
President
Felipe Mansilla 12 Grade & Julian Bermudez 12th Grade

th
Dear President of the United States:

How is it possible that you are still the commander-in-chief? Many wonder what you
did to get into the White House. Your answer might be; Easy, Americans voted for
me. Our next question would be, Did they really? Yes, we all know that something
weird happened in the 2000 elections. Some say that these were the rarest elections
ever in the U.S. We were not in the States when that happened, but we read books,
magazines, and news on the internet. Many know that there was a story behind that
election. How come the Supreme Court just gave you the presidency? We do not
agree with that decision. But since you managed to win that one, congratulations.
Now lets look at to the 2004 elections. A lot of controversy happened there too. You
already had started the war against terrorism, the troops captured Hussein, and you
were happy in your office at the White House. You ran against a weak candidate,
Kerry. He did not have much of an opportunity, but he offered a fight. There were
campaigns so people would vote and express their minds. Your reputation decreased,
because of the decision you made in the past. In the end, you were reelected. We have
no problems with democracy, except when it is not respected. Sir, you can ask anyone
and theyll say that they did not vote for you. How did you win? Nobody knows.
You focused on the problems that were happening around the world and not what
went on inside the U.S. You did not care about poverty, security and the needs that
U.S. citizens had. You just worried about eliminating Terrorism; just kicked them out
of a System they own and control. You tried the impossible. Obviously it did not work.
You wanted to rule the world, but you only achieved a violent war. Sir, your reputation dropped, many who voted for you, now regret that decision. Many predict that
as the years pass, your reputation will fall so low that you will have to resign. The few
that have faith in you say that you will end up being a good president that many will
remember forever.
We do not know what will happen to you. What we do know is that the U.S. needs
changes in many aspects. They need a strong leader. Right now, they do not have one.
And we hope they will find one soon.
Sincerely,
Felipe Mansilla, & Julian Bermdez
63
cartas
letters
Funeral
Johanna Goossens 11th
To whom it may concern:

I am going to a funeral tomorrow. Who here has been to a funeral? I bet anyone who
reads this will have been to a funeral, and because you have, the title caught your attention and you decided to see what this crazy gringa would say. At this moment, I am
not crazy, and I am not a gringa; I am just like you, feeling the same way you do, or
once did.
Its my cousins funeral. Someone ran into his stationary boat in a marina. How do you
run into a boat that ISNT moving!? How is ANYONE that STUPID! Being intoxicated
isnt an excuse. Theres never an excuse for killing someone. You did it, its done, and its
time to pay. His father is a lawyer, so Im sure hell have fun with that. Is it wrong to write
fun and funeral in the same sentence? If it is, oh well. Just like the driver, I am not going
to go back and fix what I did. Unlike the driver, I still have the power to do so; but what
would be the point? I already put it down, I already thought it up. Erasing it wont change
the fact that its an idea that I had, as awful and contradictory as it might seem. However,
is it really that wrong? Arent funerals supposed to be fun? Isnt getting revenge, fun?
Well, maybe not in so many words, but still, the general consensus is that in the end it
was fun. I wonder if killing someone is fun? Was that wrong to say too?
I suppose it could be. Sadists seem like the type that would enjoy it, like, rapists and
psychos and schizoids. Although I think we can agree on the fact that they are not normal, they are born that way. Some sort of chemical imbalance, which seems to be the
common diagnosis for being different. However, because of this chemical imbalance,
I find it hard to blame them. Although they could say no, and stop, its not really their
fault. I find it easier to blame people like that than that boat driver. They are normal, no
chemical is forcing them to do something. Every second that they engage in committing
a crime, they can say no, but they dont. Or maybe they do, but somehow, it just doesnt
help. Is it wrong that I find it easier to blame a man with three kids, a wife, and house
than a mental patient at the local penitentiary? Ive been asking myself a lot in this essay
if what I am saying is wrong. I guess, when faced with death, I am also bombarded with
worry about what is right or wrong. Is what I am feeling wrong or right? Is it ok to cry?
Is it ok not to cry?
64
cartas
letters
I havent shed a tear about it at all. And I know I wont tomorrow. When there are tears
everywhere, pain everywhere, wailing everywhere, and when there is sorrow hanging in
the air, I have an odd necessity to be strong. Im always the strong one, and have been
for a long time. The only thing that I am worried about, the one thing that could take my
strength away, is the look on his mothers face. Have you ever seen a mother after shes
lost a child? Its the worst look in the world. Not because shes crying profusely, not
because shes wailing or screaming, not because shes distraught, and not because she
cant move without collapsing; because of quite the opposite. She isnt crying because
she knows there will never be enough tears; she isnt wailing or screaming because she
knows there will never be enough oxygen in her lungs. She isnt distraught because she
knows it will never show how she really feels, and she isnt moving just because she
cant find a reason to. Seeing a mother not move or cry because its just not enough, is
worse than seeing a murder, a war, or a crime. Its worse because its not just one thing,
its all three. Her soul has been murdered, her conscience is at war, and her emotions
are a crime. She is the only thing that could break me; she is the only thing. I could hold
his little sister as she weeps on my lap, and I could see his father shed guilty tears, even
without a watery film over my eyes. But his mother, the sight of her will surely be an
occasion to cry. Is it wrong that I can cry for her but not for him? I didnt know him, but
Im still family, and I havent cried. Is that wrong?
So why am I writing this? I dont know, why not? To whom am I writing this? Anyone. I
dont know where Im going with this. I dont really know where Ive gone, but I know
now, that I dont have anything left to say. So this letter is over, and so is today.
Sincerely;
Johanna Goossens
65
cartas
letters
Almighty
Julian Bermdez 12th Grade, Felipe Mansilla 12th Grade &
Daniel Snchez 12th Grade
Dear Mr. Almighty,

We are addressing this letter to you today to verify your existence. We would like to
know if you are The One; the creator of everything. What are you? A normal person who
wonders around the universe, or just a spirit? Where have you gone? People are loosing
faith in you. Throughout Earths history, there have been massive killings, tortures, hunger, injustice, and other terrible situations because people are questioning their life. They
want to know where they are, where they came from, and where are they going. If you
are The One, you should bring peace once and for all to this planet. Do we deserve
this mistreatment?
In the name of the Earthians, we call upon thee. We want an answer. What is our destiny?
Whats the point of living if we dont know the truth? People call you different names,
even though you are One. They are curious about their past and future, but is humanity
going to end sometime? Is there going to be a global destruction?
Why are we questioning your existence? Is it that there has been a big loss of hope in
humanity, due to the wars throughout history?
Is heaven a place or just a spiritual state? What is hell? After we die, do we go to a different place, or is our energy transferred to another body?
We think that all these questions are a result of not knowing, not believing. These are
some of the questions people have about you, especially the genius Albert Einstein, who
once said: I see only with deep regret that God punishes so many of His children for
their numerous stupidities, for which only He Himself can be held responsible; in my
opinion, only His nonexistence could excuse Him.
We still believe in you, but we want some answers. We would appreciate if somehow you
could reach Earth and guide us with faith, give us hope and help us share your ideals.
Please tell us if you are there. Desperation is what still drives us; we are waiting for your
answer.
Thank you,
Sincerely,
The Earthians
66
cartas
letters
Soldiers
Sahar A. Herbol 12th Grade
Dear Soldiers,
I know you all want to receive letters, food, batteries for your hand held games and so
on. All I can give you right now is a letter. Im not going to say I know what it is like to
be in Iraq fighting for our country, because I dont know what it is like, and I will never
know what it is like. Ill tell you a bit about myself right now. My name is Sahar Ann
Herbol. Im 16 and I am a senior in high school. When I graduate (June 07), I will be
heading back home to Pennsylvania and go to college. Im living in Bogota, Colombia
right now, because of my moms job with the U.S. Embassy. I have lived overseas most
of my life, so Im getting excited to go back to the States and live there. I have seen all of
you as my heroes and wanted to let you know that I am deeply appreciative. I would like
to take a moment to tell you how thankful I am that brave people like you are fighting
for our country. This is my first time writing a letter to someone who is as important to
my country as you all have been, so please bare with me. Living overseas, I have been
really close with a large part of the U.S. Army, those that work with the U.S. Embassies
overseas. I just met new people, and some of them just came back from Iraq. They have
told me numerous things such as; I never want to go back there, Im glad it is all over,
I dreaded the entire time over there, and so on. I know you are all having a really hard
time over there, and I want you to know that you are always in my prayers. In the states,
we all listen to the news if one falls, then we cry and then we pray. We worry about your
conditions and pray and we never stop hoping that you will all make it home safe, to
your loved ones and friends. I can say one thing, your country is proud of you for standing up to evil and encouraging the oppressed with willing hearts. You are the ones that
make America strong. I know some people that are going to be on their way to Iraq and
Afghanistan and when I pray for them, I pray for you although I dont know your names
or faces. You will be with me wherever I am, whatever I am doing. You will always be
there, in my heart. Please come home soon.
Sincerely,
Sahar A. H.
67
cartas
letters
Letter to Outsiders
Dear Outsiders,
You dont know me; but I know you so well. Im kidding. I dont who you are; I just
have no one to write to. No, Im not lonely. No! Stop making that face, as if you knew. I
am NOT lonely! No! No! I am not. Ok, whatever; its not my problem- you believe I am
lonely, when I am NOT lonely. But, I dont care, just stop making that face and read my
letter.
I am writing to you from my favorite spot in this whole house: the top window. Such a
lovely view, the outside is green and sunny; so beautiful. Too bad my window has bars
and I cant feel the air; I hate those bars. But, I learned my lesson. The other day I tried
to take them off, and I got caught and I must say it wasnt nice. No, I was not trying to
run away, I just wanted to open the window and feel some air. I havent been out in two
weeks. No, dont give me that face again, I am not lonely.
Ok, so I was saying I am sitting in this beautiful spot. The surroundings are white, only
white walls. Everything is so white, my robe is white. It looks gorgeous with my red hair; it
sucks that its falling off, but nonetheless its beautiful. My friends, you see I am not lonely;
tell me that it is ok for my hair to fall, theres nothing wrong, its just the pills doing their
work. No! I am not taking pills because I am sick, its just because they say I have to.
My friends say they are doctors, but thats just a game we all play together. They punish
me, and I act as if I believe it was true, but I know they just love me, they love playing
with me. There was even a time, they acted as if they were really mad, and they began
putting electric shocks on my body. It was so cool! Everyone thought we were really
fighting. I am such a good actor, I swear. If I werent stuck here, I would be acting in Hollywood. You dont believe it? Well you suck, because its all true. To prove my point, I
am going to tell you a little secret. Robert DeNiro once told me, I was the best actor he
had ever seen in his life! He came all the way to my home; my beautiful white home, and
told me he wanted to cast me for the lead roll in one of his movies. I began screaming
so hard, I was so excited. Ironically thats when my friends and I started acting, and they
began putting electric shocks on me. I was such a good actor; I made Robert believe it
was all true. He told me I was perfect; he promised he would call me the next day. He
hasnt called. Maybe my friends are just jealous and they dont tell me when he calls.
Sure, they dont want me to leave. I am their best actor.
68
cartas
letters
For now, I am just looking out the window. I have a strange feeling Robert D, as his close
friends call him, will come walking through the gates with all his Hollywood crew and
simply come and shoot our movie here. The problem is, my friends have locked me up in
this very tiny room; dont worry were just playing. I started throwing food in the dining
hall and hitting some of my roommates; it was all part of my act. Yes, I want people to
know how good an actor I am! This little room makes me a bit claustrophobic. Thats why
I am writing to you from my window on the top floor. My friends are so cool; they even
made a policeman and a very, but very, big man come to check up on me. They think I
am going to try and run- one of our other games. The problem is, I always get caught; but
after several minutes. I run so fast no one can catch me.
I love my white home! Its just so unbelievable. Its white and shiny, its perfect! Everyone
wears the same white robe, which is very cool. They say it makes us all equal. Great! I
love being equal! Well thats the bell; it means I have to go for my daily dosis of pills.
Doesnt it all seem so real? My friends and I are such good actors.
Regards,
The best actor you will ever meet
Psychiatrist Ward. Minneapolis.
69
cartas
letters
Letter
Dear Santa,
I know I have been somewhat of a brat- thats how my mom describes my attitude- this
past year. But, believe me, its just a phase; plus, its not my fault, its my familys fault.
I know I have been mean to my sister, but wouldnt you be like that with someone whos
such a looser? She irritates me so much. She thinks shes so cool just because shes 13 and
I am eight. Whatever. She has no boyfriend like I do, and her friends are not nearly as cool
as mine. She thinks shes so big just because my mom lets her go to the mall on her own
and because she wears makeup. Well, thats how she calls it; I just think she looks like
shes wearing face paint from a clown costume.
Sorry Santa, this has nothing to do with my Christmas wish list. But, please understand me.
My sister is a looser, and please, have you seen my brother? He doesnt even know how to
talk. Come on, when I was two years old I practically knew how to read, and that boy cant
even get my name straight. Ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous. I try to teach
him, but he just doesnt get it. Well, who could blame him? My mom keeps talking to him
like he was a baby. Woman! Please, hes two years old already! I believe my mother just
entered a stage called menopause, shes going insane.
My mother cleans the house all day, until it shines and sparks- her new saying. She opens the
windows every day because the house is too hot; please, give me a break! Its mid-December!
How hot can it be, when there are snowstorms and the temperature does not rise from 4 C!?
But who could blame her? My dad works out in the middle of the living room, watching all
those How to get the body of your dreams in six days programs. Mr. its been four months!
Has it ever occurred to him that the body of his dreams disappeared a long time ago? Somewhere, between the time he stopped playing American Football in college and started eating
ice cream and chocolate like a mad man, because he says sugar makes him happy! Please!
No more chocolate and ice cream for Dad. Any more happiness and well be bouncing
off the walls. All his endorphins, produced by his high levels of glucose, are pushed out of
his system, by working out and making our living environment a stove, literally, a stove; you
could cook something off the walls of my dining room after my dad has done his workout.
So all this transpiration finally ends up with my mom opening the windows, regardless of the
fact we are in the middle of winter.
How or why I am part of this family? A mystery, thats for sure. Who knows where my real
parents have gone or why I ended up living under the same roof with those four wackos.
But, Santa, please bring me everything I have asked you for. I am the only sane person in
this family, who still believes in you and who knows you are real. All the other members
have sworn you dont exist. But lets be real, would you believe anything they say after the
description I just made of all of them? Santa please bring me that twin sister I ordered. You
would make me the happiest person in the World! Plus, I would have another sane person
to talk to in the house. Just think of everything I have just said, and think how good a twin
sister could be: someone just like me, fighting against the crazy people living in this house.
I promise I wont be a brat anymore; just send me a twin sister! Pleeeaassseee?!?
Thank you! Emilia
70
cartas
letters
Mom
Sahar A. Herbol 12th Grade
Dear Mom,
So its my last year. Time flew by so quickly and I thought I had more time, but as I just
sat down, I realized, I only have a couple months to go. Then I am off to college. Mom, of
course you are going to be in my senior page, but I just felt like I needed to write you a bit
more, because I need space for my friends on that page too. I have been through school
for 12 years now, and from all the teachers I have met, the best one has been you. You
have always taken your time to explain your reasons for the decisions you make, even
though I dont agree with some of them. And even though you dont always understand
me, you at least put forth the effort to listen to what I have to say. You have taught me to
look past others mistakes and disabilities to see the human being inside of them. Most
of all, you have taught me to think ahead to the consequences of my actions, and that
might be one of the most important things you have ever taught me. I am responsible
for my actions, and whatever I do today, could affect my entire future; that the choices I
make now, could have life-long consequences for me and for the people I love and care
for. You allowed me to make my decision; some werent reasonable, and you did say
no, but others you knew that I was going to learn from my mistakes. I know I will cherish that my entire time at college and for the rest of my life. Do you remember when we
sat down that one day, and we watched The Gilmore Girls? Then afterwards I called
you Lorelai and you called me Rory, and so it went on? Before that show, we werent as
close as we could have been, but then we watched it, and we were the closest we could
ever have been. That show, showed the real us. Its true that we both have our flaws and
arguments at times, but its just another obstacle in the road that we seem to slip by. So
the time has come, where I am off to college, and I know already how much Im going
to miss all of you. I will keep you in mind in every choice I make, because your teachings made an impact on me. If it werent for you, I wouldnt have been to all of those
places, seen all those amazing things. If it werent for you, I wouldnt be here right now.
Thank-you for all you have done, to make me happy. Thank-you for doing all you did, so
I ended up how I am. I love you, Henry, and Alan so much, and I know it will be hard
my first year away from all of you, but I will keep you all in mind until I see you on my
first vacation back to you.
Much love from your one and only daughter,
Sahar
71
Mariana Camacho 9th Grade
72
Silvana Minervini 11th Grade
Nicole Guindi 11th Grade
historias cortas
short stories
historias cortas
short stories
LO NICO QU QUED
Alejandra Carson 10th Grade
Un da como cualquier otro, en una aldea tranquila y amable, ocurri lo inimaginable. El
ri que bordeaba al pueblito, trajo por sus corrientes a unos rateros. Viajaban en veleros
grandes e imponentes. Nadie sospech la destruccin que stos les iban a causar. Todo
ocurri al medio da.
Los nios estaban jugando, los hombres cazando y sus mujeres cocinando. Al ver llegar
los majestuosos barcos, todos suspendieron sus tareas y se acercaron al ro para recibir
a los visitantes. Varios hombres grandes con armas se bajaron y desde que pusieron pie
en tierra, empezaron a destruirlo todo. Disparaban a los hombres, quienes anonadados
por los hechos, no pudieron reaccionar. Muchos murieron. Los macabros agarraban a
las seoras del pueblo y las tiraban lejos de las puertas de sus casas, para facilitar su
entrada. Entraban a las cabaas y se llevaban con si lo que pensaban valioso, lo dems
lo destruan.
Algunos nios, estupefactos e inseguros de lo que pasaba, se quedaron como estatuas
hasta que los perversos los capturaron y se los llevaron con ellos. Los otros que alcanzaron a correr, se salvaron de un cruel destino.
Por fin, el ataque ces. Al despejar el terreno, slo qued el sonido de la naturaleza. La
vista era devastadora. El piso qued rojo de sangre. Las mujeres se estaban despertando
de sus desmayos, ya que de los golpes, muchas haban quedado inconscientes. Despus
de unas horas, los nios que huyeron empezaron a regresar a la aldea. Quedaban pocos
habitantes. Casi todos haban sido secuestrados por estos extraos. Ya no quedaba nada
ms que la vista de los barcos alejndose, al fondo del ro.
74
historias cortas
short stories
LA NOCHE ESTRELLADA
Andrs Mishaan 10th Grade
Imagen tomada de http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imagen: VAnGogh-starry_night.jpg. Van Gogh, La noche

estrellada, 1889, leo sobre lienzo.
En este cuadro pintado por el famoso artista Vincent Van Gogh se muestra una nueva
forma de arte, que contiene algo fantstico. Se puede decir que es misterioso por los
colores que tiene. Van Gogh logra que rompa con el estilo impresionista, y muestre todo
su esplendor.
La historia empieza as: En el mundo extrao se encuentra una oscuridad que a la vez
brilla y defiere de sobresale a cualquier otra noche del ao. La gente no entiende qu
est pasando en este pueblo tan humilde. Algunos dicen que algo sobrenatural est
sucediendo, y otros ya se dieron por vencidos y piensan que el mundo est al final de
su existencia. Las estrellas empezaron a caer como manzanas maduras de su rbol. El
viento causaba que las nubes mezclaran los colores de las estrellas con el azul profundo
de la noche y que el rostro plateado de la luna sonriera sobre el pueblo. Las montaas se
empezaban a mover como las olas del mar en una tempestad. Los habitantes finalmente
entendieron que era una noche mgica.
La magia de la noche hizo que todo pareciera irreal. Los animales empezaron a hablar,
los rboles a bailar, y la lluvia de estrellas a cantar. Pareca una fiesta o un carnaval. A
medida que pasaban las horas y el goce aumentaba, la gente del pueblo festejaba con la
confusin que ya aceptaba. La fiesta dur toda la noche hasta el amanecer. Cuando sali
el primer rayo de sol y todo estaba volviendo de nuevo a lo normal, la gente entendi
que la fiesta haba acabado y que esa noche fue fantstica, especial, e inolvidable.
Las personas guardaron esa imagen en su mente y fue el secreto para tener una larga vida
con tranquilidad y felicidad.
75
historias cortas
short stories
EL GUITARRISTA VIEJO
Andrea Stephanou 10th Grade
Imagen tomada de http://mike.steinbaugh.com/download/tamhigh/el-arte-de-espana/paintings/picasso7.jpg
El Seor Rambaldo era muy conocido por todo el pueblo como el seor de los cantos.
No hablaba mucho, pero ser siempre muy amable con su gente y le sonrea a todo el
mundo que lo saludaba. El seor Rambaldo era tambin muy solitario; nunca en su vida
se haba casado ni conocido a una mujer o por lo menos eso crea la gente del pueblo.
Su extremada flacura era horrible, pues se vea despaciguado, muy dejado, como si por
dentro estuviera muerto y triste por alguna razn. Cuando joven haba trabajado en el
rancho de Joselito como vendedor, pero aparentemente no dur mucho, pues nunca llegaba a tiempo y era muy despistado. Fue as como lo echaron, y la verdad nadie quera
contratarlo; les pareca que Rambaldo era intil e inservible. Lo nico que en verdad
tena era su guitarra que llamaba Roso, era su nico amigo pues a donde Rambaldo se
dirigiera Roso lo acompaaba. El Seor Rambaldo se sentaba en la esquina de algunas
calles o en frente de la iglesia y empezaba a cantar; as fue como reuni plata para sobrevivir. Pareca que el seor Rambaldo viva de la msica y por eso la gente del pueblo
comenz a llamarlo el seor de los cantos, cantaba para s mismo, pues nadie entenda
lo que en verdad estaba cantando.
Un da floreciente y con mucho sol, el seor Rambaldo estaba en pleno pasto cantando
alguna de sus canciones, el mismo da que cumpla 98 aos. Una nia llamada Lucella se
le se sent al lado y le pregunt que por qu su vida era tan sola, por qu su nico amigo
era su guitarra que no la soltaba por nada y por que no tena una esposa. De repente
una lgrima se le escurre por el cachete plido del seor Rambaldo y por primera vez en
muchos aos le comienza a contar a esta nia que hace mucho l haba conocido a una
mujer y haba jurado casarse con ella, pero un da ella se fue de viaje y ms tarde haba
tenido un trgico accidente. Despus de ese da, le cuenta que su mundo cambi y que
desafortunadamente l nunca volvi a ser como antes todo le era diferente, lamentaba
la muerte de su futura esposa y lo nico que haba encontrado que lo tuviera vivo fue su
guitarra Roso. Fue ah donde aprendi a expresarse y a desahogarse de todas las formas
posibles. Haba perdido el sentido sobre el propsito de vivir y fue Roso el nico que lo
ayud a medio sobrepasar ese dolor que haba vivido con l toda su vida.
En un instante el seor Rambaldo fij su mirada en Lucella y dentro de ella vio a Roso,
la mujer de su vida, se dio cuenta que esta nia tena las mismas facciones que Roso y
entonces comenz a llorar pero de una forma tranquila, empez a tocar su guitarra, de
repente en la mitad la cancin mir a la nia y puso su cabeza de lado y lentamente fue
cerrando los ojos. El seor Rambaldo haba muerto, pero con una cara de satisfaccin y
felicidad, algo que nunca se le haba podido notar en sus 98 aos de vida. Era como si
Rosio hubiera vuelto a su vida. El viejo guitarrista del pueblo, el seor de los cantos o el
seor Rambaldo haba muerto.
76
historias cortas
short stories
LOS GIRASOLES MGICOS

Daniel Ballesteros 10th Grade
En una aldea muy lejana, de algn lugar de Europa, viva un humilde campesino llamado Drek. ste era muy amigable y siempre sonriente, rara vez se le vea malhumorado.
Drek tena una vasta cosecha de exticas plantas, que venda en el pueblo, y le daban
de comer. l no tena familia y la verdad nunca la necesit, ya que con su carisma era
fcil conseguir amigos y conquistar a las mujeres. Un da como cualquier otro iba caminado por unos sembrados de palmas, cuando vio que tres girasoles se elevaban en lo
alto sobre las palmas. Para Drek este hecho fue bastante extrao y decidi acercarse para
examinarlo detenidamente. Estos girasoles se extendan unos 30 metros sobre l, y en
la vida no los haba visto, pareciera que hubieran nacido en cuestin de horas. Drek no
le dio mucha importancia a este hecho, y sigui su rutina normalmente, cuando se fu
acercando a una colina ya al final de sus cosechas, escuch un fuerte llanto que provena de un pastoral bastante alto, Drek se aventur para ver la causa de este perturbante
llanto, mientras se acercaba logr ver la cola de un enorme dragn, Drek no dud en
salir de all rpidamente, cuando ste le habl y al pasar el tiempo Drek se dio cuenta,
de que las intenciones de este dragn eran totalmente inofensivas y buenas. Despus de
varias horas de hablar, el dragn le explic su situacin, debido a la maldad de la gente
en el mundo, y todo el resentimiento y el rencor que la humanidad siente entre s, estaba
gravemente enfermo. A pesar de eso tambin logr ser el ltimo de su especie. Drek
entiend a la perfeccin, y se vi en el deber de conseguir una de aquellas semillas de
uno de los girasoles, que eran la cura para la grave enfermedad del dragn.
A la maana siguiente, Drek se prepara para su gran tarea, y muy temprano se dirigi a
uno de los girasoles para conseguir las semillas. Finalmente, despus de mucho esfuerzo
logr conseguir una de stas, las cuales eran del tamao de un baln, y con mucho trabajo las transport hasta donde se encontraba el colosal animal. Este qued inmensamente
agradecido por el gran esfuerzo que Drek haba hecho. Muy desilusionado, en un abrir
y cerrar de ojos, ste se desvaneci en el aire. Drek regres a su casa para reflexionar
sobre lo que acababa de suceder, y mientras iba por el camino vio que quedaba un solo
girasol, y ste se haba convertido en oro, y tallado en el tronco ley, -para un gran hombre, Drek- Mir al cielo y agradeci tan maravilloso regalo.
77
historias cortas
short stories
LA HISTORIA DE LEO
Gabriel Carmona 10th Grade
Hace algunos aos, haba un leopardo beb que se llamaba Leo. El viva feliz con su
madre, hasta que un da, un par de cazadores llegaron a la parte de la selva en donde
estaban este beb y su mam. Trataron de escapar pero los cazadores los haban rodeado. La mam preocupada por el bien de su hijo lo escondi en los arbustos y atac a los
cazadores. Despus, el pequeo leopardo solamente escuch el rugido de su madre y el
disparo de un rifle. Despus silencio.
Despus de un tiempo, el pequeo leopardo sali triste por haber perdido a su madre y
se fue, pensando en cmo sobrevivir en ese lugar tan peligroso. Los primeros das fueron
los ms difciles de su vida. Tuvo que esconderse de leones y otros depredadores. Casi
no poda comer. Finalmente, despus de una semana, cuando ya estaba a punto de morirse, vi un aura extrao acercndose a l. Cuando se levant y mir bien vi al espritu
de su madre. Al comienzo no lo poda creer y trat de dormir, pero de pronto el espritu
comenz a hablar con l.
-Leo, no puedes rendirte, deca el espritu.
-Por qu no madre? Todo est muy difcil.
-Leo, t eres especial. T tienes un deber en este mundo.
-Y cul es ese deber?
-T tienes que crecer grande y fuerte para poder ayudar a otros leopardos chiquitos que
van a sufrir lo que t ests sufriendo ahora.
Con esas palabras, Leo cambi su mentalidad e hizo todo para poder ser grande y fuerte
como el espritu de su madre predijo. El espritu de su madre lo ayud al comienzo hasta
que pudo cuidarse solo. Hoy en da, Leo es uno de los leopardos ms grandes y fuertes
en la historia y est haciendo lo que su madre le dijo. Anda por frica ayudando no slo
a los leopardos pequeos que sufren, sino a todos los leopardos en problemas.
78
historias cortas
short stories
THE GET-WELL CARD

Just like cold, tiny spiders, the light pierced my eyes. However, it did not stop the terribly
gaudy colors of newly applied streamers, cards, toys and pictures, from shining through
my closed eyelids. I knew that they were just a pathetic attempt to stimulate the recitation
of a disease. To simulate joy, hope, and happiness; all those things that only the hopeless,
joyless and miserable know about.
GOD! Give me back curtains, give me back rayless glee. Give me pain and give me sorrow, Only then could I be living to show my true emotion and self.
GOD! suddenly realizing her mothers seemingly lifeless body at the left corner of the
room, sleeping on the rocking chair. Irritation is racing through my veins now, as I stare at
that limp body. Limp backbone, limp mind, limp soul. She couldnt hold my father, and
she cant hold me. Instead, she holds up Get-Well cards. She holds them 3-feet away, as
if they hold her soul. Pathetic Get-Well cards. They arent cards, theyre mirrors, reflecting leukemia back in my face. Reflecting death back in my face. Painful reminder of pity,
painful reminder lying compassion. Just another reason for her to stand away, and for my
father to stand even farther.
Hope you get well soon, we miss you! Which is signed by everyone, who are just agreeing to agree. Theres nothing special or sweet about a Get-Well card; in fact, the Get-Well
card companies sell their merchandise by being completely unoriginal or unique. They
falsely advertise caring and concern, because Get-Well cards mean nothing. Anyone can
send a card, and anyone can sign it; hell, just the fact that people need to buy a message
should make them illegal. My mother is the type of person to buy Get-Well cards; she
needs appearances to make her seem like a good person, when shes really a terrible one.
Thats why my father left; he couldnt bare appearances. Unfortunately, I am both; I hate
people with Get-Well cards and I hate people without.
Just as I thought that this room could not get any smaller, the door opened. Letting in air,
letting in hope of something new, something real. Although it is a little early for breakfast,
this did not stop my desire for some human contact; even though most of the nurses were
just like the Get-Well cards, it didnt stop my excitement. However, my excitement soon
turned to confusion as I saw two leather shoes enter the room, and a suit, and a hat, and
a face that was my fathers. He bore no Get-Well card, but he was here. He came, and for
an instance, I was warm. Warmed with love, warmed with hope, and I was warmed to
just a degree that I felt as if my blood cells were not infected or my heart polluted. Finally,
some human compassion, some human emotion that wasnt greed. I was truly happy at
this moment, and continued to be throughout eternity because in the seconds that my
mother was rising from her distant sleep, I feel asleep. A deep sleep and as my eyes began
to droop, I knew why he had not brought a Get-Well card. I knew.
79
historias cortas
short stories
JESTER
Johanna Goossens, 11th Grade
Marx was a revolutionary thinker who was renowned during his time. He changed human existence because of his extreme but utopian theory of government. On paper, communism is a flawless picture of how the world should be, however, when acted upon, it
is far from flawless. Like many amazing ideas, his were corrupted and turned into another
means of totalitarianism. However, despite the past few lines, this story is not about
Marx, rather a jester that once entertained him.
Marx was on the verge of marriage to an exotic beauty. Whether he married her for her
looks or because of the suggestion of her name, Fiela (which means fidelity) was unknown. They were going to marry, and Fielas father, (a rather large man) who on many
occasions was drunk, decided to make a large, overbearing, omniscient, and extravagant
celebration out of it. So, every form of food, entertainment, pleasurable company, music,
and decorations was acquired. They came from the four corners of the earth, and all
were relatively easy to obtain, except for the entertainment. You see, Marx lead a very
solemn life, even a courtship with a beautiful young woman could not bring a smile to his
bereaved lips; and even though he loved comedy, none that he had experienced could
changed his decrepit appearance. Finally, a jester was hired. However, this James Dean
was no ordinary jester; he was in fact an unemployed English teacher, who was unjustly
chosen for this very ample task. He was nervous, of course, just like you might be, if you
were an unemployed English teacher about to confront a huge complication that would
require many years of study to accomplish.
Since he had no past experience, he stayed up for four nights and four days trying to
discover a way to make Marx laugh. Nothing came to him, not a single idea or clever
thought; he was blank and remained so until his turn. The announcer called his name,
James Dean, a jester from across the sea who will enthrall you with witty humor. Upon
this announcement, frozen pins of icicles shot through James Deans spine. They punctured his lungs and stung his heart. He could not move or breathe or beat his heart. He
stood there, blank. Awkward silence came from the dining hall that he was supposed
to enter, and suddenly he was pushed into the center. There was a flash of a spasmodic
rush of blood that sped to his cheeks. He stood there, in the center of attention, with his
stomach in a thousand knots feeling as though he would either collapse of pain or vomit;
he stood with sweating palms and a dripping forehead. For a second, his soul even left
his body to look upon the gaping faces and the pathetic look of abhorrence on his own
face. This was a tiny man that was breaking under the pressure. However, whatever it
may have been; the jesters sweaty forehead, or his curdled body (almost in a fetal posi80
historias cortas
short stories
tion), or purple face from lack of oxygen, or simply his inability to change his horrified
expression, made Marx smile.
Not only did it make Marx smile, but it was the largest and most pleasing smile anyone
had ever seen. If looked at for too long it would make you feel empty and alone. At the
same time (under the circumstances) it was a sickly smile, slightly vile. Nevertheless,
it did not stay a smile; just as the jester was being escorted away, he peed in his pants,
and at this, Marx was practically on the ground laughing. As his face turned pink, the
crowd gaped at this freak occurrence. Just then, the jester began to regain consciousness,
and even at his own humiliation, he could not help but feel a unique sense of accomplishment; but just as he turned to exit, he slipped and fell into his own urine. As he sat
soaking up his own mess he heard Marxs struggle to breathe because of the incessant
laughter that was coming from him; instead of running away and crying, like the bravest and strongest men would do, he lay there and began to laugh himself. Both of them
were on the ground, filling the silent room with their powerful laughs that almost seemed
painful because of the inability to breathe. They gasped and fought to stay conscious, but
continued in the same exact manner.
So maybe this wasnt a story about Marx or about a jester, maybe it was about neither,
maybe it was about both. Maybe it was about simple satisfaction; Satisfaction of laugher,
satisfaction of an unexpected utopia, satisfaction of accomplishing something impossible.
81
historias cortas
short stories
AND THE WHEELS ON THE BUS

GO ROUND AND ROUND
The wheels on the bus go round and round, as I sit four rows behind the driver on the
left, in the seat right next to the side door. In this seat, theres much more room; room
for my thoughts, room for my tears, room for self pity. No one else sits here in the winter because they dont like the breeze that comes through the side door. So its a lonely
seat, but I like it. I like the chill that pierces my nose and my eyes. The frost is comforting
because it keeps them away.
It keeps the woman that commutes three hours to a job she hates for the children she
loves, away. She sits on the right side of the bus and positions herself directly in front of
the side door and only three seats away from the front door. Some days, I think that her
fatigue will send her rolling out of the bus, on a sharp turn, or her frustration will send
her running out the front. But the wheels on the bus go round and round, as I look away,
out the window, just as the bus approaches the stop at Queens.
It keeps the professor from Harvard that wears the same overcoat, same vest, and carries the same briefcase, same hat, same seat, away. He sits in the second to last seat on
the left hand side, and presses himself against the window, and weeps at the images passing by. Hes not completely gone, and there is where he chose to be, not where he was
forced to be. His little minuet eagerness to exit the bus, when we arrive at Times Square,
is excused because of his seat, but that does not stop him from skipping onto the bus. The
wheels on the us go round and round, as I study the strangers that are on it.
There are two different kinds of strangers: Newcomers; they dont know where to sit.
They dont know whats up or down, or who we are. They dont know where theyre going, or where theyve been. Then there are the strangers that are regulars, but never sit in
the same place twice. The bus isnt important for them. They drift from seat to seat, not
knowing where theyre going to sit or what they see outside these windows. To them, its
a ride, not a life. These are the most irritating strangers, because occasionally they can
disrupt the seating of others. When a seat is disrupted, it disrupts who you are. What happens in your seat on a specific day defines you. However, there are no objections, when
your seat has been taken over, because the events that will happen in that seat cannot
be avoided whether you sit there or not. When in the presence of another seat, you are
out of your comfort zone. The things that happen arent yours. Its like stealing; its like
being a quiet witness to a crime. Its annoying. I look around to see if this will happen
today, but the seats that belong to us are vacant, and the chance that someone will sit in
this chilly seat is minimum.
82
historias cortas
short stories
It keeps people away. It keeps the beautiful and conveniently single boy, away. He smiles,
and is always hesitant about sitting in his seat. When he enters the bus from the side door,
he slowly smiles and slowly passes by my seat. As his body moves away, his eyes are still
and glued to the rim of my seat. However, eventually its over. He quietly sits down in the
seat behind me, also pressed against the window. I am always to afraid to turn around to
see if he stares at me or out the window, because Im afraid of the string I might untangle
and the grip he might take on it. Although this chill does not frighten him away, it is disappointingly apparent that it is too much for his blood pressure to bear. However, the wheels
on the bus continue, to go round and round, as I brace myself to see her.
It keeps her away too. No one sees her go or come, but when we reach 11th and 72nd,
shes there. She appears in the seat right behind the driver, and although this is not too
close to my seat, the reflection that depicts her face in the back of the drivers seat is
paralyzing. Her body is pressed against the window, and her eyes never stray except
for when a regular comes in. She doesnt speak and cant react. The only sign of life is
the trickle of warm light that seems to pass through her body every time she realizes the
metal and glass are enclosing her. These walls are the only thing we know about her,
and the only thing she cares for us to know. She is cold, like the metal and glass, but her
ultramarine eyes burn bright. They burn holes through the seats and burn holes through
me. She knows I like the way no one speaks, but everyone knows. She knows I like the
way no one knows, but everyone assumes. She knows I like the way no one assumes, but
everyone sees. She knows I like the way no one sees, but everyone looks. And she knows
that I know that she likes them too.
The guilty pleasure is sweet. We know our secret, and enjoy it. We know each other, and
enjoy it. We hate everyone, and enjoy it. We are in love, and yet, in love with the seats
that part us, and the metal that decussates us. Its mindless self-indulgence, and it lasts till
dark, when there is no light to create a reflection. Shes gone, the ride is over, and it ends
where it began. I get off, and the wheels on the bus go round and round.
83
historias cortas
short stories
EL MOLINO
Juan David Arredondo 10th Grade
Muchas historias han sido contadas sobre aquel molino situado en las afueras de Leiden,
aquel molino radiante que brilla con la luz del sol todos los das e intriga a muchos campesinos holandeses.
Ricardo viva con su padre a orillas del ro en una casa humilde de solo un cuarto. Su madre haba muerto a causa de un virus que los doctores nunca pudieron identificar. Desde
corta edad, haba trabajado con su pap vendiendo frutas y verduras ganando apenas lo
que necesitaba para vivir. Pero a pesar de su extremada pobreza, lo nico que quera
Ricardo era poder volver a ver a su madre. Era la persona que l ms amaba y dara lo
que fuera por volverla a ver.
Un da, Ricardo fue al pueblo a comprar un pedazo de pan. Cruz el ro en la canoa de
su pap y ah estaba, elevado sobre todo lo dems, un molino de diez metros brillando
en el ocaso. Pareca como una fuerza que llamaba a Ricardo, que quera que se acercara.
Ricardo subi la loma y, casi inconscientemente, se acerc para echar un vistazo a la
estructura. Era un molino viejo muy parecido al resto que Ricardo haba visto, pero este
tena algo especial. Ricardo no poda explicarse pero haba algo sobre este molino que
le traa tranquilidad a su corazn. Entr por una puerta de madera en la parte trasera y
apenas se encontr adentro, sinti un aire clido que lo acogi como una cobija. Adentro, todo se vea muy viejo, destartalado, y por dondequiera que Ricardo miraba haba
telaraas, cosa que lo espantaba. Pero, aun as, por primera vez en su vida, no tuvo miedo. Fue en ese momento cuando oy una voz distante llamando su nombre. Al principio,
Ricardo pens que fue solo su imaginacin, pero cada vez la voz se oa con ms mpetu.
Ricardo reconoci la voz de inmediato; era la voz de su madre. Mir hacia arriba y ah
estaba, bella como nunca, suspendida en el aire. Ricardo quedo atnito. Despus de
unos segundos reaccion. -Oh madre! no sabes cuntas veces he soado reencontrarme
contigo.- Su madre sonro. -Lo s hijo mo, tambin ha sido difcil para m no estar contigo. Pero solo quiero que sepas que siempre te amar aunque no pueda estar contigo da
tras da.- Ricardo no pudo evitar dejar escapar unas lgrimas. -Llvame contigo. Llvame
donde sea que ests, le suplic Ricardo. -Pero hijo, quin va a cuidar de tu padre si no
t cuando l sea viejo. Siento mucho que no puedas venir conmigo pero te aseguro que
siempre estar a tu lado aunque t no me veas. Adis Ricardo.- La figura de la madre de
Ricardo haba desaparecido. Ricardo volvi a su casa donde lo esperaba su padre. Le dio
un gran abrazo y sin decir nada, se acost a dormir.
Muchos aos despus Ricardo les contara a sus nietos sobre aquel molino situado en
las afueras de Leiden, aquel molino radiante que brilla con la luz del sol todos los das e
intriga a muchos campesinos holandeses.
84
historias cortas
short stories
EL ENOJO
Laura Gmez 10th Grade
Inspirada en la obra de Joan Miro, (Ceret) tomada de http://

www.postershop-espana.com/Miro-Joan/Miro.Joan-Ceret9978536.html
En un cuarto de msica, atollado por tonos y notas musicales se encuentra una enorme
bestia vestida de negro tocando el piano. Expulsa varios sentimientos que se expresan
a travs de los colores y figuras inconclusas. En un concierto artstico, donde la msica
toma el papel protagnico de la noche, el animal salvaje explota sin control tras no
poder interpretar su piano adecuadamente. Su rostro inspira temor y angustia. Su comportamiento inapropiado hace que todo parezca un desorden absoluto, haciendo volar
todo el aire sin control. El verde y el anaranjado en su cara hablan por s solos, y saca a
relucir sus colmillos para gritar de enojo, pues nada le sale bien. Toca sin ritmo ni delicadeza, y el piano se manifiesta con las horrorosas notas que salen de l. El pblico se
queda mirando, atontados por la irona, ven una figura que sale lentamente del piano.
Junto con colores, lneas y crculos, se logra descifrar la palabra: MALO. El instrumento
quiere gritar, decir que la bestia abusa de l y es malvado. Ambos, tanto intrprete como
instrumento se encuentra enojados, sin embargo el piano se hace notar con tcnicas abstractas conservando la calma. Eso, sin embargo, no parece importale a la bestia, y sigue
tocando desaforadamente con sus manos que parecen las de un cangrejo; puntiagudas y
cortantes. Parece una discusin sin palabras que recurre a los gestos interminables.
85
historias cortas
short stories
SHORT STORY
Laura Silva 9th Grade
It was just an other plain day and my wife, Ana, went to work as usual. She was working as an architect on a new skyscraper she had created with other important architects.
Thank God the building wasnt too tall yet. It was just about 10 or 15 stories. That day,
she had left home very cheerful and singing her favorite song. It never crossed my mind
that in less than 12 hours, she would be in the middle of an ER lounge, with her life in
danger. I was told that in the moment of the accident, she was showing her plans to some
workers on the 5th floor. The night before she had spent hours working on her designs.
Not that I know a lot about the topic, but from what I remember, they were perfect.
I was told she was in the edge of the building showing the workers how the building
was supposed to be built. She reached out to show them something, and she slipped
and fell. She dropped 5 stories, hitting the ground, and leaving a huge puddle of blood
around her. I just cant think about that image again because it makes me feel all that
fear and sadness again. In the moment of the accident, I was heading to where she was
working. I often brought her lunch, and we ate it on the sidewalk. That day, I was going
to surprise her with her favorite food, but when I got there, the surprised one was me.
I didnt understand why there were so many people around the building, and so many
ambulances. I thought maybe one of the workers had had an accident or something,
but I never imagined that the one in the middle of the crowd was Ana. That night, I sent
Manuela to her grandmothers house and told her I was going to be working in the night
shift, and that her mother was at a friends house. She looked worried, and didnt believe
me; normally she never wouldve doubted my word. It was the first time she asked me;
Is everything alright dad? With my eyes in tears I just nodded with my head still not
understanding how a four year old girl could just notice what was happening, and how
the love of a child is so strong that in the instance the accident happened she new something was wrong.
After dropping Manuela at her grandmas house I rushed to the ER lounge and stayed
there suffering for more than 24 hours. Its just the worst feeling someone can ever feel,
I didnt know what to do, what to think, how to get rid of the thousands of questions
that were just bursting in my mind. I didnt eat for 3 days, and I got to the point where I
thought that I didnt have more tears, but tears kept on coming out.
Two days after total agony sadness in the hospital, Dr. Smith came out of the surgery
room with a disappointed face, deep inside me, I knew what had happened but I was
just trying to avoid reality and think that everything was ok. Tears burst out of my eyes
as if they were a waterfall that was never going to end. Dr. Smith just looked at my sad
eyes and told me Im sorry, and simply left. In that moment I felt my world, and my life
86
historias cortas
short stories
were just collapsing in thousands of memories, and reality just vanished in my sad eyes.
My mind was empty and I simply couldnt find any answer for all the crazy thoughts I was
having. What was I supposed to say to Manuela? Dear, your mother just died No! Who
was I going to be so cruel with my little baby! What was I going to do?
I stayed sitting there in the waiting room for about 3 hours just looking at an empty spot
with nothing to think of but at the same time with thousands of thoughts, questions and
feelings in my mind.
Those first 6 months were terrible, Manuela couldnt talk, and she had to permanently
be going to the physiatrist. That made me so sad; the only thing I wanted in that moment
was for Manuela to be a happy girl, and to take advantage of that great moment of life
she was going through, the same as other children. And to see her suffering each single
day for me was the worst thing that could happen to me.
Every single night I had the same dream, I dreamed of Ana, of the first day I met her. It
was a very realistic dream. I was happy. Every single night I felt the same feeling that I
had felt the first time I saw her, all the bubbles in my stomach came back. Suddenly in
the middle of my dream I started to cry, and I didnt understand why until I awaked and
I realized that it was just the same old dream once again.
For 2 years I thought every single second of her, people asked me why I didnt have my
old smile in my face. They never got tiered of telling me that they hadnt heard me laugh
since the accident, get over it they said. I think they really didnt understand the pain I
was feeling, but it was ok, I couldnt care less.
Exactly two years and a half after the accident, I went to visit my family in California.
That day, the best day of my entire life, I was walking in the cold breeze of winter.
Besides the beach, suddenly I felt a beautiful giggle behind me. I was sure it was Anas
giggle, it was perfect and unique, It had to be her! I thought I was going crazy, and I
started to panic, I tried to ignore the giggle and started walking faster. The giggle started
to turn into laughter and it was getting louder and louder each time. I couldnt avoid
listening to her, so I just decided to turn around. It was unbelievable, after 2 years an
a half I was finally seeing her again. I couldnt move, didnt know what to think what
to do. Maybe I was just going crazy, or maybe I was dead, I thought, I didnt find any
answer for what was going on. I just kept on starring, I felt as if my body didnt react
and I just wasnt able to move. She smiled at me and said; hi. I just looked into her
deep eyes and started to talk with her.
I remember clearly that there was a beautiful sunset, and the sky was full of thousands of
colors. We sat on a rock near the sea and we just started to see the sunset feeling the cold
breeze of the ocean. I asked what was she doing here, and she told me she had to tell me
what she had felt the day of the accident. I started to cry, I was nervous.
I was just telling one of the workers were he had to put the new windows, when I dont
know why I slept and fell. I closed me eyes and many colors and shapes started to appear
in front of my eyes. Things that just didnt make sense, thousands of feelings of sounds
of smells started to appear. Some feelings were things that I didnt experience years ago.
Suddenly everything started to take shape, and things started to make sense. The feeling
that was covering my body in that moment wasnt a feeling neither of fear nor sadness, it
was more like a happy feeling and I was really calm. That 5 second fall lasted for me my
whole life time once again. I saw every moment of my life since my fist memories, and
even the negative moments seemed happy.
87
historias cortas
short stories
I WILL NOT LET YOU GO

Laura Steiner 12th Gade
My namewho knows my name? Who cares about my name? Even if I told you what
my name was, you wouldnt understand it; for I have not lived inside you. Or maybe
I have. Ive lived in so many places and existed in so many lives, I keep loosing track.
My name sounds very scientific, as if I were a sickness. But, Im not. People just say that
because I make them sick. But thats just them; its their own faultnot mine. I just enter
as a companion, looking for somewhere to live. They blame me for their sickness, but I
repeat, its not my fault, Im just inside you. Its your fault; your own fault. You invite me
in and let me take over. Then you regret it. Get a grip of yourself! Stop blaming me for
everything! Make up your mind!
You begin feeling so pretty, so nice. Everyone congratulates you, everyone tells you nice
things. You feel great, you feel awesome. You are the center of attention of all of your
friends. You have finally achieved your dreams. Thats when I come in. Im not looking
to shred your dreams. I couldnt care less about your dreams. I just come in because you
open the gate, you let me in; you practically welcome me in.
Then all that happiness and joy you felt, begin to disappear. You feel lonely, desperate.
People blame me for that; maybe theyre right. Maybe theyre right; maybe I am the one
destroying your dreams. But then, why did you let it get to your head? Why did you start
feeling better than everyone else? You are no better than anyone else, lets make that clear.
Why did you get so obsessed? Why are you so nave? Thats not my fault, its yours.
I love you. I love every single part of you. Thats why I dont want to leave you. I want
to stay with you. You keep me company, dont let me be lonely. You know you are also
scared of being alone. You want me to stay close, be with you all the time. But then, you
had to go and do it. You had to tell your friend; that person you think is so special. Are
you dumb? They couldnt care less. No one cares about you, just me! Are you trying to
call attention? Stop it! Just, stop it! Its not good; youre ruining the plan. Why did you tell
them? Stop hearing their advice; its not good; theyre just jealous.
Youve ruined my plan. You completely broke our agreement by telling everyone about
it. You should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me- I swear. Have you looked at
yourself in the mirror recently? I bet not, you would be horrified by the way you look.
Yes, you look fat! Fat! Fat cow!
So, are you really going to go to that place? What are you going to tell them? You know
nothing about me, absolutely nothing. I know you so well; but, you have no idea who
I am or what I am. Ive confused you, havent I? Ha, poor baby. Yeah right! I pity you.
I thought I had made you so strong, but really youre just so fragile. You have no idea
whats wrong. Well, thats because theres nothing wrong! If you follow the plan, and
keep quiet, youll see we will work it out just fine. Stop calling yourself the victim. Im
the one whos being rejected; Im the one who everyones trying to get rid of.
88
historias cortas
short stories
You should feel proud; proud that I chose you. Ive made you my protge, Im your
guardian. I fulfilled all of your dreams; I made you pretty; I made everyone look at
you; I made you receive so much attention I made you mine. I choose my preys
very wisely. I go for girls like you; yes, just like you. I dont go choosing any girl,
so youre special, very special. Ive known you forever, only I did not take you so
seriously before, just until now; and now you take me as an abuser? As a dominant
factor in your life? Shame, shame, shame! And now all you do is criticize me; thats
not right. Hypocrite! Thats what you are. You are an immoral hypocrite.
Well, you know what? Now youve made me really mad. I am going to make your
life a living hell. I have not even begun my work, and youre already crying. Ha! You
have no idea what is waiting for you. Start thinking how youre going to deal with all
those emotions. Up until now, I have been fairly nice; Ive covered them all up for
you so you wouldnt have to feel a thing. But now, all that is going to change. Im
going to let it slide little by little until you pop. Literally, Im going to make you pop.
Your going to loose it. Your cheeks will hurt from all that crying; all you will want to
do is sleep and forget for just one second the nightmare your life has become. You
are going to feel all alone.
You think this is drastic? Well this is what you deserve. You ruined my plan and you
rejected me. Thats not nice either. You should have thought about it twice. But, now
its too late I have you under my hands.
89
historias cortas
short stories
UN VRTIGO INTERMINABLE
Una nia cuenta su historia con el alcohol. Nos dice como este se meti en su vida
y la acab. Ahora lo nico que le queda es un viento fri y sus pies temblando.
Miro mis pes; estn colgando. Me siento liberada por primera vez en mucho tiempo. Siento como el aire roza mis mejillas y llega hasta la parte trasera de mi espalda.
Siento un escalofro y cada pelo en mi cuerpo se para. Siento mis manos heladas;
las acerco a mi saco para entrar en calor. Mis pies apuntan hacia abajo, pero me da
miedo mirar; todava no soy capaz. Mi pelo se revolotea con la brisa. Mi cuerpo esta
firme, todava me da miedo moverme. El viento vuelve y lo siento tocar mi espalda
con tanta suavidad que me produce temor. Estoy liberada, pero por dentro sigo hecha
un nudo. Siento como el corazn me palpita cada vez ms fuerte, casi a punto de
estallar. La barriga me duele y siento como si fuera a vomitar; probablemente son los
nervios. Mi cabeza, mi pobre cabeza es un nudo. Me duele tanto de pensar. Mis pies
se revolotean; pero todava no es hora; todava me da miedo mirar abajo.
Como llegu ac? Sub las escaleras y me sent, es as de simple. Por qu? No lo s;
slo s que estoy asustada. A que horas me enred tanto? No lo s; no me acuerdo.
Las manos me estn empezando a temblar. Pero todava no soy capaz de mirar abajo.
Mis paps siempre me han dicho que en la vida hay que luchar; pero, luchar contra qu? Antes, todo era tan fcil y de un momento a otro todo se complic. No me
acuerdo como, no me acuerdo cuando; slo s que pas. Sin darme cuenta, me met
en ese mundo, que asco. Solo necesitaba liberarme; sentir que por primera vez en
mucho tiempo los problemas se escondan y me dejaban vivir, ser yo.
Todava me acuerdo la primera vez que lo prob: me supo amargo y asqueroso, me
quemaba la garganta. Mi pap me dijo que a medida que creciera me empezara a
gustar un poco ms. Que mentiroso, jams me gust el sabor. A medida que pasaba
el tiempo, lo tomaba pero por que quera hacerlo, no por qu me gustara su sabor.
Jams cre que terminara ac.
Me duele la cabeza, casi igual como ese primer guayabo que me dio. Me acuerdo
que mi mam se di cuenta y se ri, me dijo que eso me pasaba por tomar tanto,
por alcohlica. Ja, que irona, si supiera hoy en da en las que ando. Yo era la rumba
de la fiesta. Viva feliz, nada me importaba. Jams me entr el sentimentalismo en
mis borracheras, yo slo me rea y la pasaba rico. Tomaba de todo. Tragos feos de la
90
historias cortas
short stories
botella, tragos finos, cocteles, cervezas, todos. Jams me gust el sabor, todava lo
odio, me hace vomitar.
Recuerdo la primera vez que vomit. Estaba en la casa de un amigo y sin darme
cuenta beb demasiado. Ya no me senta como las otras veces, ya no era rico. Estaba
enferma. Fu al bao y vomit. Al otro da me despert y me re. Esa noche volv a
tomar. Que bien me senta, saber que los problemas se escondan, todo volaba.
Los pies me tiemblan, el viento los mueve, pero todava no es hora, todava tengo
miedo. No quiero mirar, me da pavor.
Las fiestas cada vez me parecan ms aburridas, no me poda quedar parada de la
borrachera, as que optaba por tomar en una casa hasta quedar inconsciente y simplemente dormir toda la noche.
El alcohol me empez a despertar muchas ansias y deseos. Mi sexualidad se increment cien por ciento. Que asco. Nunca he tenido novio pero mis encuentros
sexuales ya no los puedo contar con los dedos de mis manos. Las ansias empezaron
a afectar mis calificaciones, ya no iba al colegio. Tena que tomar durante el da; ya
la noche no era suficiente.
Me tiembla todo el cuerpo, el aire est helado. Todava no miro abajo, todava no,
debo esperar.
Desde mediados de Abril, ya no les puedo contar bien mi historia, pues no me acuerdo. Me pase la mitad del tiempo en otro mundo. Mi cabeza liberada y mi cuerpo
muerto. No me acuerdo si estuve dormida o qu hice. Hace casi cuatro meses no me
acuerdo de lo que hago o con quien; mejor dicho, se me olvida quin soy.
Estoy completamente sola, estoy enferma. Las botellas me repugnan, no las quiero,
pero las necesito. Estoy sola, completamente sola. Slo un trago ms que me quite
la soledad. Ya ni siquiera s si lo que siento es verdad o es un delirio. La cabeza me
duele. Ser sndrome de abstinencia o me estar diciendo que pare, que no mire
abajo? No soy capaz, todava tengo miedo.
Quiero gritar, soltar todo lo que tengo adentro. Quiero gritar todas las groseras que
me s y decirle al mundo entero que me importa un &*%^; que me &*%^ en la vida,
que me &*%^ en m. Quiero pedir perdn; a mis amigos, a mis paps, pero sobretodo, a m misma. Perdn por haberme hecho tanto dao, perdn por no haberme
querido lo suficiente, de todo corazn, perdn.
El pelo me hiela las orejas, parecen congeladas; pero todava no, todava no es hora.
Quiero vomitar todo lo que me he tomado en mi vida. Quiero filtrar mi sangre, limpiarla, poder volver a empezar. Quiero ser yo otra vez; esa nia que no le gustaba
lo que tomaba, que le quemaba la garganta. Quiero que me den otra oportunidad;
mentira no la quiero, no me la merezco.
Se oscurece, el cielo recobra su color negro. Ese color que vea casa vez que me
dorma, cada vez que estaba inconsciente. Las luces de la ciudad se comienzan
a prender. Oigo mi respiracin entrecortada. Tengo miedo, tengo nervios. Como
llegu ac? No lo s. Estoy en el piso 14 de mi edificio, sentada en el balcn, lista
para saltar. Tengo fro, me estoy helando. Que hago ac? Salto? Mi vida es ma.
La puedo acabar ya si quiero. Pero, Ser que s quiero? No me importa. Los pies se
mueven, el viento los hace temblar. Miro hacia abajo, creo que lleg la hora, no lo
s. Tengo miedo, necesito un trago.
91
historias cortas
short stories
GOTHIC STORY
Laura Steiner 12th Grade, Michelle Gutierrez 12th Grade, &
Jos A. Rozo 12th Grade
She woke up screaming. Her clothes were completely soaked. Everything was dark;
she had no idea what was wrong. She tried to get a hold of the candle, but she couldnt
find it. The room was cold, the wind was wooing. She was shivering. The rain outside
overshadowed her tears. No one could hear her crying. The nightmare was gone, but
yet, it seemed so real, as if everything that had happened was genuine. In the back of her
eyes, she could see a shadow moving from behind; it was getting closer and closer. She
could feel the scent, the breathing. It tickled her. It made her feel chills up and down her
spine. It was getting closer, each time closer. Then, as if magic had acted upon it, it was
gone. The shadow was no longer there. There was just, a shadow from the trees outside.
She didnt want to go back to sleep. She knew what was waiting for her, that image, that
constant image that haunted her every dream.
She thought about this all night, scared to place her head on the pillow. She tried hard to
stay awake. She was terrified to find that face again... that white, ghostly face that rusty
voice that kept telling her to stay away. Away from what? She repeated that phrase to herself every single day. Stay away, stay away. She didnt understand it, but each time she
saw it, it seemed truer, more authentic. The pale face troubled her; she was constantly
frightened. That woman of her dreams, with watery skin color, had a voice that transmitted cholera. She seemed furious every time she appeared in the girls dreams. Her face
was full of agony and rage. She hated the girl, or so it seemed. The girl did not sleep that
night, or the next night, or the next week, for that matter.
Camilo Gutirrez 11th Grade
92
historias cortas
short stories
She carried herself around the castle, trying to focus on other things. But she couldnt
get that image out of her head. The only companions she had for that week were her
servants, for her husband was on a voyage in the Americas. The servants were beginning
to feel scared of their own employer; they would hide from her. She walked in her blue
veil all day, acting mad. The corridors made her feel frantic, as if they were closing in on
her, leaving her without breath. She wouldnt go to her own room, for she knew that if
she saw her bed, she would eventually fall asleep, and that was what she feared the most.
She preferred to be called foolish than to have her dreams haunted by that pale face. She
wandered around feeling life a monster, a complete stranger of her own self.
On one of her moments of insanity, as she walked around her castle, through staircases
and dark rooms; she ran into a door she had never seen. Her drowsiness kept her from
thinking straight; she pushed the door open and found herself in a secret passage. Her
husband had always warned her about the unknown parts of the castle. He wasnt
familiar with the castle; for it had not belonged to the family. It had belonged to some
other people nobody knew. He had taken charge of the castle after he was named
Count of Westphalia. She had always followed his orders about wandering alone
around the castle. But now, she was no longer sane.
She walked through the passage. Her head was spinning; everything was completely
black. She felt her body carrying her around the dark hall; her head was not commanding, her legs were in the lead. Suddenly she reached what seemed to be a storage
room. She saw books, dusty furniture, dresses hanging on the wall and a babys crib.
On top of a trunk, she saw a dusty photo album. It was satin and had gold letters. Her
head did not let her think, her arms and hands moved on its own. She opened the
album. Dust came out. She coughed for a long time; then suddenly she stopped. She
couldnt believe what her eyes were seeing. She wiped them over and over again; just
to make sure what she was seeing was real. At first, she thought her mind was playing
tricks on her. But the object was real. It looked ancient, as if had been there for hundreds of years. The colors had faded. It looked orange, brownish, one could even say.
She kept staring. She just couldnt believe it.
The wind blew loudly behind her. She began seeing that face again, that face that
haunted her and that kept screaming at her every night. That face was REAL. She was
looking at it in the photograph she was holding in her hand. She was gazing into the
eyes of the woman that had haunted her dreams for over two years. She was glancing at the thing she feared the most, the face that woke her up every single night. But
that spectrum looked so peaceful, so full of life. She was beautiful. She had her arms
wrapped around a baby that seemed to be her own. Beside her was standing a man
that was looking at her with passion. They looked so happy, so in love, so pleased with
their existence!
Suddenly, she felt some noises. Scared, she grabbed the picture, put it in her pocket
and ran outside into one of the main corridors. She was panting when she got to her
room. She was surprised to find one of the maids appeared from nowhere. The maid
saw the alarmed expression her owner had on her face, and asked her if everything
was alright. She answered in a positive way, but the maid could see that behind her
smile, she was quite anxious and impatient. Then, as if someone had pulled it out of
her pocket, the photograph that she had grasped so tightly suddenly fell to the floor.
Both women jumped from their spots and tried to reach the piece of paper. The maid
got there first, and when she saw what she was holding in her hand, her expression
transformed to a choleric one.
93
historias cortas
short stories
Where did you find this, Madame? the maid asked.

Uhh, nowhere, nowhere. I dont even know how it got there, the Madame replied with
a very nervous tone.
Well, Madame, for your own good and safety, I would recommend you get rid of that
picture now, the maid said.
Why, may I ask? inquired the Madame. Is there something I should know regarding
the people in this picture here?
Well Madame, Ive known you now for over twenty years; it is probably time that I tell
you the story about these people.
The Madame listened carefully as the maid explained who these people were..
Madame, the woman you see in the picture used to be the owner of this house. This
is her husband and this precious boy, her only child. When they used to live here they
were a happy family. Both the Madame and the Master were very much. They had the
little boy the most gorgeous child to ever set foot on this planet. The Madame was so
happy, she loved that boy! They spent lovely days running around the gardens and hiding in the corridors. Then, when the boy was about two years old, he got sick. At first,
we thought it was a simple flu, but as the days went by and the child did not get better
the Madame realized that her child was sick at heart. She knew just by looking at him in
the eyes. The plague had attacked her baby. The Madame was devastated, completely
overwhelmed. Her boy was suffering badly, and she knew it. The doctors said there was
nothing we could do, just wait until the child passed away. But that couldve taken two,
four, even 20 years. Every night, I could hear the Madame walking around the corridors,
crying her eyes out, waiting for her child to die. The little boy couldnt stand the pain, or
so the Madame said. Then one night, I stopped hearing the Madame walking through the
corridors. I could hear no sobbing or weeping; everything was silent. I went up to check
on the child and I saw the Madame on top of her boys body. She was holding him so
tight. Then I saw the blood dripping and I knew what had happened; the Madame had
killed her baby.
By thn, the Master was out of town. When he got back and heard the news, he went
crazy. He spent four days in his late sons room; he did not eat or drink anything. The
only thing he did was screamin, cry and curse his wife. The forth day, he came out. His
face was expressionless. That night, the husband murdered his wife and went on to kill
himself. One week later, the castle was sold to a rich old man, who then sold it to your
husband. It is said that the Madames ghost still haunts the corridors of this castle. She has
never forgiven herself for killing the baby and her husband for killing her.
The womans face was completely pale. She was astonished, speechless. She thanked her
maid for telling her the story and rapidly dismissed her from her room. Night was getting
closer and the Madame knew that the night before would be her last night without sleep.
She couldnt handle it anymore. She needed to sleep, whether she liked it or not.
At about 12 p.m., the Madame fell asleep. Rain was pouring outside and thunder and
lightning were illuminating the whole room. Yet, as the night passed she began seeing
that face. This time she felt her breathing close. She could practically smell her scent.
She opened her eyes. After, she heard a voice screaming. She knew that what she was
seeing right now was no longer part of her dreams, it was real. She saw the woman of the
picture. She looked old and fragile, but so real.
94
historias cortas
short stories
My Baby! My Baby! What have you done to my baby? the woman kept screaming.
The Madame was in shock. She didnt dare to speak.
Youve killed him, and now you are trying to steal my husband!
The doors began slamming, the windows opening and closing. Laughter The woman
could hear laughter. She didnt know where it was coming from, but she could hear it...
a mean, somewhat mocking laughter. She realized it was coming from the spectrum she
was seeing before her eyes, laughing each time it got closer to the woman.
You are trying to steal my life! Stop it! You have no right! Get out of my bed, out of my
room, out my castle! the ghost kept yelling at her.
As she said these words, she pushed the Madame out of her bed. The Madame rolled
down to the floor and tried to defend herself, but it was too late; the ghost was already
on top of her.
Get out! was all the Madame could scream.
Somehow, she managed to get up and began running around the corridors screaming
for help. The spectrum was on top of her, holding her, yelling at her. The Madame ran
as fast as she could.
I swear Ill kill you, the spirit told her.
She kept running and suddenly she tripped. Although she escaped her fate of dying in the
hands of the spectrum, she flew out of a window and landed face up on the fence. She
died immediately, and so did the child she was carrying inside.
95
historias cortas
short stories
CUENTO
Nicols Mazuera 10th Grade

Haba una vez un hombre tan feo, que todo el mundo se asustaba cuando lo vea. El
viva con su madre apartado del resto de la humanidad, en una pequea isla. A pesar de
su apariencia, ella lo amaba como una madre ama a su hijo. Un da su madre lo oblig a
ir a la ciudad y enfrentar sus miedos. As fue como comenz su aventura en la ciudad.
El le haba rogado a su madre que no lo obligara a ir, pero su madre dijo que era por su
propio bien. Tan pronto lleg a la ciudad sinti que haba cometido un gran error, ya
que toda la gente lo miraba como si fuera un bicho raro. Se sinti deprimido y pens en
maneras de evitar esas miradas que lo nico que hacan era bajarle la moral. De pronto
tuvo la idea de colgarse una manzana en la cara. Las miradas no cesaron pero ya no
eran de repulsin si no de curiosidad. Esto lo alegr mucho, pero a los pocos das lleg
su madre y lo vio con la manzana en la cara, y su cara no fue de rabia ni de tristeza sino
de decepcin. Ella le dijo que lo haba mandado a confrontar sus problemas no a esconderse detrs de ellos. Ella le dijo que la gente lo tena que aceptar como era no como
quisieran que fuera.
El seor entendi a la madre, y decidi salir a confrontar el mundo y aunque lo miraban
mal, a l no le importaba y lo mejor de todo fue que termin casndose con una mujer
que aunque no era muy bella tena el corazn lleno de bondad y nobleza.
AVE FNIX
Nicols Bejarano 10th Grade

El Ave Fnix o Phoenicoperus como lo conocan los griegos, es un ave mitolgica del
tamao de un guila, de plumaje rojo, anaranjado y amarillo incandescente, de fuerte
pico y garras. Su hipottica distribucin, segn algunos mitos, comprenda la zona del
Oriente Medio y la India, llegando hasta el norte de frica.
Cuenta la leyenda que el Fnix viva en el Jardn del Paraso, y estaba anidando en el rosal. Cuando Adn y Eva fueron expulsados, de la espada del ngel que los desterr salt
una chispa y prendi el nido del Fnix, haciendo que ardieran ste y su inquilino. Por ser
la nica bestia que se haba negado a probar la fruta del paraso, se le concedieron varios dones, siendo el ms destacado la inmortalidad a travs de la capacidad de renacer
de sus cenizas. Cuando le llegaba la hora de morir, haca un nido de especias y hierbas
aromticas, pona un nico huevo, que empollaba durante tres das, y al tercer da arda,
no se sabe si por el fuego que l mismo provocaba o por causa accidental. El Fnix se
quemaba por completo y, al reducirse a cenizas, resurga del huevo el mismo ave Fnix,
siempre nico y eterno. Esto ocurra cada 500 aos. Segn el mito, se le aaden otros
dones, como el de la virtud de que sus lgrimas fueran curativas.
Segn la mitologa china, el fnix es una criatura con cuello de serpiente, el cuerpo de
un pez y la parte trasera de tortuga.
Historia: Un da volaba el ave fnix por los aires y vi una apetitosa culebra arrastrndose. Rpidamente el ave fnix descendi para comer a la culebra. Sin embargo cuando el
pjaro vio a esa inofensiva culebra decidi dejarla ir, ya que los indefensos son los que
ms apoyo necesitan.
96
historias cortas
short stories
EL MICO
Nicols Cadavid 10th Grade
Un animal mezclado entre la selva se balancea entre rboles y ramas, tan elstico como
el caucho, se trepa por donde menos lo esperas. Esta es la historia de un mico retador,
que lograba lo que quera sin importar lo que pensaban de l. Un da apareci con el
sueo de trepar el rbol ms alto de la selva. Nadie lo crea posible y menos por l. Pero
l con la cabeza en alto us sus cuatro extremidades y su larga cola para trepar a lo ms
alto. Llegando ya al final se empez a preocupar, estaba cansado y le faltaba apoyo moral. Se detuvo para pensar en por qu debera llegar a la cima. Se dio cuenta que no era
para que la gente lo admirara, sino era para demostrarse a s mismo que l tena la capacidad de lograr lo que l quisiera y que hara un gran esfuerzo para cumplir sus sueos.
EL TRATORI
Nicols Cadavid 10th Grade
Un animal misterioso, vive en lo ms alto de los rboles y con sus brazos y piernas se
cuelga para mirar como juegan los nios. Nadie sabe cmo es. Pocos lo han visto pero
cuando lo ven por primera vez, se les olvida cmo era. Si lo ven una segunda vez se les
olvida que lo vieron. Y a la tercera se vuelve ms grave el tema, ya se les olvida que se les
olvid que lo vieron, pero la peor es la cuarta vez que lo ven. Se les olvida cmo es esta
criatura a la que llaman el Tratori. Lo que s es cierto, es lo que ensea, muestra pureza
y tranquilidad. Todo aquel que lo ve, as se le haya olvidado cmo es o que lo vieron,
saben que algo ha cambiado en su vida y que el Tratori slo quiere ver la pureza de la
sociedad, y por eso mira a los nios, los que an no han contaminado sus coraznes.
CUENTO
Natalia Garcia-Pea 10th Grade
La tenue brisa que me envuelve, que me acuerda del pasar del tiempo y de las cosas,
esa brisa que me roz la mejilla, estar algn da dispersa y lejana. As sern todos los
pueblos, personas, tendencias, y la vida misma. Algn da se dispersar y se volver parte
de este vasto universo donde alguna vez estuvo. Por eso debo capturar cada momento de
esta vida disfrutndolo al mximo, porque en un tiempo, ya no ser y solo quedarn las
memorias. Disfruto la brisa que ahora est conmigo y los rboles que lloran con el tocar
del viento y bailan al ritmo de la naturaleza, con sus hojas que se confunden con el cielo,
formando ambigedad en su comienzo y fin. Estoy aqu, disfrutando la vista a las orillas
del Sena, escapndome de esa realidad oscura, distinta y agitada que es Pars. Aqu
puedo mirar la verdadera naturaleza de la cuidad desde otra perspectiva, y contrasto ese
trajn urbano con el sosiego de los rboles, del pasto, de las aves, y de las majestuosas
aguas del Sena. Aqu me quedar por un momento, en mi propio reino, donde, vestida
de blanco, yo ser mi propia princesa.
97
historias cortas
short stories
Belleza de Gladiador
Santiago Santos 10th Grade
Con su bella capa rayada y su herradura musculosa cubriendo su fuerza y su ansia de
cazar, el hermoso tigre ostenta su furia contra las rejas de las celda del coliseo, en donde
espera impaciente el momento de salir. La gente est a la espera del gladiador, de la
lucha final, de la inmortal belleza y de un ambiente en donde no existe la piedad. Convencido, el tigre sabe a lo que va, brue sus colmillos para darles fortaleza, lima sus uas
para tener un mejor agarre e ilumina su pelaje para resplandecer a la hora de la salida. El
tigre sabe que es el mejor, el tigre sabe que lo esperan a l, convencido de dar un gran
espectculo y de volver pronto a su estado preferido, la soledad.
La hora llega, el pblico se anima, se abre la reja, y sale el misterioso gladiador, con un
caminar pausado y con los ojos afectados por el cambio de la oscuridad a la luz. No tiene afn y no siente presin, solo siente el ansia de tener a su presa entre sus garras pero
sabe que debe hacerlo con inteligencia. Cualquier error podra costarle la lucha, podra
costarle la victoria, podra hacerlo perder aquella admiracin que mantuvo por tantos
aos intocable. Tanto han esperado para ver a aquel gladiador, que muy tranquilo, est
a la espera de que su sentido le indique que es la hora de atacar. Camina silencioso, da
una, dos y tres vueltas al coliseo, mirando fijamente su objetivo.
Algo le dice que es el momento. Reluce el brillo de sus colmillos, se asegura de que
su armadura est bien puesta, saca a fulgurar la inmortalidad de sus armas y finalmente
emprende el camino. Ataca con fuerza, sin miedo, con seguridad y clava sus colmillos
y su espada en el punto indicado. Siente la sangre caliente de su contrincante, siente la
yugular arrastrndose suavemente por su boca y huele la muerte, la victoria. Vuelve a la
normalidad y sin quitar la vista de su presa, el pblico lo anima. El gladiador, ese gran
tigre Siberiano, solo anhela volver a su estado de soledad. Se abren las rejas, agarra a
su contrincante de las piernas y lo introduce en su celda. El objetivo ha sido logrado, y
luego de un gran festn, el gran gladiador debe prepararse para la siguiente disputa.
98
historias cortas
short stories
El Camalen
William Gaviria 10th Grade
Imagen tomada de la pagina http://humano.ya.com/cimadevila/album/animalia/index.htm 02 - Camaleon 1.jpg
El camalen, animal sereno; el camalen, animal de selva; el camalen y su inteligencia.

Al verse acechado por carnvoros que rondan entre las espaciosas plantas tupidas, rboles de gran tamao, y flores iridiscentes, este animal posee la capacidad de controlar la
situacin y salir con vida de la misma mediante el disfraz. Su color cambia dependiendo
del contorno en el que se encuentra y de esa forma, al tornarse parte del ambiente, esta
bestia confunde a sus depredadores. Este mecanismo de defensa que es utilizado de la
forma ms practica y en el tiempo preciso, hace que esta criatura tenga un alcance de
razn al igual que los humanos y por ende, superior a los de su medio ambiente.
99
historias cortas
short stories
Longest Night
Sahar Herbol 12th Grade
The thunder banged loudly, shaking my windows and doors. The rain poured down,
slamming onto the concrete roads outside. I sat on my bed watching the rain trickle
down the windows just like the tears sliding down my face. I was frustrated, and shot
with pain, just like a needle as it slides through my skin pushing the pain deeper and
deeper. Why me? Why is it always me? My head was beating back and forth, from
side to side. It was all falling apart; it was all over for me. My eyes were large, swollen and red. Sleep hasnt been a word in my vocabulary for a while. I just sat there,
cold as the night, rocking back and forth, trying to get the voices out of my head. The
night went on, 9:00, 10:00, 11:00, 12:00. I couldnt move, not after what I had been
through. I got out of my bed to the quiet sobs of my little sister. As I walked quietly
past the rooms, I reached hers. Through the crack in the door you could see her bedside light on. I walked into her room to find her lying on the ground, beaten. I ran to
her, and plunged myself onto the ground, and held her in my arms. She grabbed my
shirt, not wanting to let go. I thought it was only me, I never thought it would happen
to her. I didnt want to let her go. Both of us were crying, holding each other, knowing we were the only ones left for each other. No one ever understood what we were
going through, no one ever knew what pain we felt, no one ever knew how many
tears we shed. Why did it have to be our lifestyle? Why couldnt we just run away?
The night went on1:00, 2:00, 3:00, and our tears were gone, as I sat there, holding
her, while she cradled her broken arm in her lap. As she lay there, she fell asleep.
I got up and laid her in her bed, tucked her in and turned out the light. I closed her
door, and snuck back into my room.
The rain was almost gone. It was sprinkling and was very cold. Why could my sister sleep and I
couldnt? 4:00, 5:00, 6:00. The sun started to come up. The sunrise was gorgeous; I could look at
it and feel a sign of relief. The day passed quickly. It was sunny, cloudless, the type of day you
wanted all the time. The clock was ticking5:00 oclock, 6:00, 7:00. I headed to my room. The rain
started to pour out on the dark night, and I was afraid. Time kept passing and passing, and nothing
happened. Was this the end of it? Was I safe finally? Relief started to hit me, and a vague smile
came across my face. 8:00. 9:00, I was alright. Nothing had happened to me. I got on my knees
and I thanked God. When suddenly, I heard a cry. I raced to my sisters room, to see him. You could
smell the alcohol on him and his clothes. He had laid his hand across my sisters face. All along, I
thought I was the only one he beat, until I saw this. I stood there frozen, not knowing what to do.
He just stood there, laughing at her, while she was once again on the wood floors. I wanted to run
and hold her like I did last night. I wanted to beat him and have it be him on the ground, but what
could I do? He turned around and looked at me, with the biggest smile on his face, smirked and said
Youre lucky for now. He walked my way, out the door, bumping into me, and left the house. My
sister sat there crying, pulling her head off the ground. She looked at me with those eyes, like last
night. I went over to her, and held her like I did last night. I took care of her all night and right then,
I knew what she and I needed to do.
100
obras de teatro
plays
obras de teatro
plays
THE OBSESSION HOUSE

Laura Steiner 12th Grade, Michelle Gutierrez 12th Grade &
Jose A Rozo 12th Grade
Mara Paula Salazar 11th Grade
Drew (obese= obsessed with food), Barbara (nymphomaniac), Pat (cleaning freak,),
Lauren (shopaholic= shopping), Tyrell (P.I.M.P. = obsessed with bling),
Courtney Malloy (hostess)
Courtney Malloy: Ladies and gentleman welcome to our obsession house! You will live
within these walls for the next three months, and will compete to win the final prize:
$500,000. Each of you has a unique obsession of some kind. Your objective is to overcome that obsession. Each week, our viewers will vote for the toughest one of you, the
one who develops the best fighting skills against your obsession. The person with the
most amounts of votes will receive a prize for the week and will earn points for the final
round. On the other hand, the person with the least amount of votes for the week, who
will be denominated as the obsessed, will suffer the consequences. Each and every one
of you will be placed in daring situations and you will have to overcome different challenges. Ladies and gentleman prepare to fight your obsession!
(The doors of the house open and the contestants go inside)
Lauren: Oh my god I love it! I love the house!
Pat: You definitely have to love it! Its so gorgeous, so clean. It smells like new. Oh my god!
Drew: Wheres the fridge dude? Im kinda hungry.
Pat: First of all Im not your dude, or any kind of dude for that matter. And second, it
wouldnt hurt you to skip a meal, dude.
(After choosing their rooms, the contestants prepared their lunch and got to discover
what were each others obsessions).
Pat: Drew, are you going to eat your plate too or what? That is completely disgusting!
Drew: What, man? Its only six cheeseburgers. Whats the big deal?
Pat: Im totally with you. I love cheeseburgers. You know who else loves cheeseburgers?
My number one idol: Paris Goddess Hilton. I just love her, I cant live without her!
102
obras de teatro
plays
Lauren: Totally! I love her clothes, oh my god! They other day I actually bought 10 of
her 12 new outfits. So amazing! Oh, and I also bought like three gorgeous pairs of shoes
to go with them. Unbelievable. Oh, right and I also bought like these new earrings, Oh
my god you have to see them! Theyre like
Tyrell: Woman. Shut up. Give me some sugar. You bought no bling?
(Lauren shakes her head, with an obvious no).
Tyrell: Man. What do you spend your money on?
Lauren: Well in new clothes, glasses, shoes. Oh my god! Purses! Your have to love
purses! I love them! I love them!
Pat: I hate shopping. Fitting rooms are just so filthy! Yuck! Thats why I have my personal shopper.
(New episode)
Courtney Malloy: Welcome back ladies and gentleman! Last week Drew lost his challenge, by eating all the raw food we placed in a room for him. He will be part of the trial
were you will vote to save one of the contestants. So lets see who would join him today.
The first contestant that will be challenged will be Lauren.
Lauren: Hi! Im totally wearing my new Prada shoes today, so dont make me do anything too disgusting.
Courtney Malloy: Please bring in all of Laurens credit cards!
(Two guys walk in, holding three boxes full of Laurens credit cards)
Lauren: Oh my god! Am I going shopping?
Courtney Malloy: Not today Lauren. Today you will have to cut each and every one of
your credit cards. Here are the scissors.
Lauren: No. Are you kidding me? My dad is going to be so mad. Plus, how can I shop
without them?
Courtney Malloy: Well thats the whole point Lauren. You have to overcome your obsession.
Crowd: Cut them! Cut them! Cut them!
Courtney Malloy: Lauren, were waiting for you.
Lauren: Why? Why? (Sobbing). I quit! I cant do this!
Courtney Malloy: Lauren you cant quit.
Crowd (Laurens friends): Lauren dont do it! Lauren youre killing a life! Your babies!
Come on!
(Lauren starts cutting)
Lauren: Bye American Express! Bye Visa! Oh no my discount cards! Bye Victoria! Bye
Barneys! Oh no! I cant do this! This is too hard!
(After having cut all her 117 Credit Cards, Lauren has a seizure)
Lauren: I feel so weak! Ahhh!
(She faints and falls down to the floor)
103
obras de teatro
plays
Crowd: No! No!

Laurens friends: L-baby! Oh no! Help! Help! Some one get her some clothes! Purses!
Something! Some one do something! Your stash is falling out! L-baby your stash!
Courtney Malloy: Hand me your stash. Yes, Lauren hand it to me. Now, you will have to
cut these seven credit card too.
Crowd: Cut them! Cut them!
Courtney Malloy: Pat you will need to overcome your obsession. You will be
placed in a dirty bathroom full of cleansing utensils and you will not be able to
clean anything. In order to win the challenge you will have to last at least three
hours in the bathroom.
Pat: What? So, explain this to me time. Im supposed to go into a dirty bathroom and not
clean? You have to be kidding me.
Courtney Malloy: No Pat this is you challenge. So please enter trough this door and you
will be escorted to the bathroom. Inside the bathroom there will be cameras watching
your every move.
Pat: This is ridiculous. You people are insane. Cleanness should be the basis to your lives.
Julin Uribe 12th Grade
104
obras de teatro
plays
JOURNALISM
PLAY (REALITY SHOW)
Johanna Goossens 12th Grade & Nack Choon Jung 11th Grade
Setting: Apartment Building

David leaves from the building 27 Wall street on his way to work at Sports Incorporated.
Two minutes later, 3 other people, Judas, Jesus and Mary leave the building on their way
to work at Sports Incorporated.
David: (as hes leaving the apartment says good bye to his doorman) Good morning, Smith!
Smith: Good morning sir, how are you on this fine day?
David: Good; Ill see you later tonight.
Judas: (same blocking) Hey Smith.
Smith: Good morning sir, how are you on this fine day?
Judas: Not bad, Ill see you later.
Jesus: (same blocking) Good morning, Smith, how are you?
Smith: Fine sir, thank you for asking.
Jesus: No problem, whos on shift tonight?
Smith: I am sir.
Jesus: Excellent, Ill see you tonight.
Mary: (same blocking) Morning.
Smith: Good morning, Ms. How are you this morning?
Mary: Fine fine, and yourself?
Smith: Very well miss, thank you.
Mary: See you tonight!
Setting: Sports Incorporated magazine building
(Simultaneously David, Judas, Jesus and Mary enter the building for Sports Incorporated
magazine)
105
obras de teatro
plays
Judas: (is holding his paperwork in his left arm and his coffee in his right. Not looking where
hes going, he bumps into David with his coffee. The coffee spills on David.) Im sorry!
David: This is a new suit! Why dont you watch where youre going?
Judas: (As David angrily stomps away) Im sorry!
Judas: (Judas tries to fix his coffee stained work and realizes that he has to report to the
head manager, Mary.) Ms. Vurgen, can I speak to you for a minute?
Mary: Yes, of course. Who are you? Are you from UPS?
Judas: No, I work in publications.
Mary: Oh, how could I help you?
Judas: Im second in charge of the Japan presentation today, but the progress we made
over the past 5 weeks has been ruined.
Mary: WHAT?! What did you do?
Judas: Im sorry, I banged into someone and spilt coffee all over him.
Mary: Are you kidding me? How dare you be so irresponsible! We have to do everything
all over again; we have to cancel the meeting, arrange new meetings for the presentation
and everything has to be postponed are you kidding?
Judas: Sadly, no.
Setting: The lobby SI (where Judas spilt his coffee)
Jesus: (Judas walks through the lobby, avoiding the spilt coffee, when he bangs into Jesus. Jesus
loses balance and is forced to slip on the spilt coffee, and he breaks his leg) AHH (in pain)!!!
Judas: Im sorry! Im sorry! Let me help you up, are you alright? Im sorry!
Jesus: AHH! I cant get up! I think I broke my leg!
Judas: Im sorry, let me call you an ambulance.
Setting: Same day, evening at 7 pm, Judas, David, Jesus and Mary get on the elevator in
the apartment building, all together uncomfortably. As the elevator approaches the 4th
floor, the power goes out, the lights turn out, and the elevator stops abruptly. The four
strangers are trapped in a dark, constrained space, not able to see anyone else.
(Awkward Silence)
David: Did someone touch something?
Judas: No!
Mary and Jesus: (simultaneously) No.
Mary: Nobody panic! Does anyone have claustrophobia? Im sure well get out of here as
soon as someone comes and gets us. Probably Smith will call a technician.
Jesus: Whos in here?
David: My name is David.
Mary: Vurgen, Mary Vurgen.
106
obras de teatro
plays
(Awkward Silence)
David: So Where do you guys work?
Mary/Jesus: (simultaneously) SI.
David: Oh as in Sports Incorporated? Me too!
Everyone: (in unison) Wow!
(Awkward silence)
(Sitting in silence for half an hour, Jesus decides to break the ice)
Jesus: Man I cant believe that on the same day I break my leg, I get stuck in an elevator.
(Judas pauses in shock)
Mary: I know! Tonight I have to do more work than I have ever before because some
idiot ruined a huge presentation of mine with coffee, and here I am wasting my time in
an elevator that wont budge.
(Judas begins to sweat)
David: My day wasnt that bad. I have time; I was simply coming back to change after
having coffee spilt on me.
(Judas begins to breathe heavily)
David: Is everyone alright?
Mary / Jesus: were fine.
Mary: Whos in here with us?
Judas: (very nervously) My name is Judas.
Jesus: Oh, nice to meet you.
David: Ditto Where do you work?
Judas: I work at SI too.
(Lights flash back on)
David/Mary/Jesus: (Simultaneously, pointing at Judas) YOU!!
--- In the next episode, find out what happens next week to Judas!
Natalia Caldern 11th Grade
107
Mariana Pardo 9th Grade
Julin uribe 12th Grade
108

IDEAS Magazine Edition 1 PDF

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

IDEAS Magazine Edition 1 PDF

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

OUR MISSION

To prepare tomorrow`s leaders

LITERARY JOURNALISM CLASS

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Un nuevo Amanecer? Julin Uribe

12 Who needs monkeys & alligators When we can have like,

Procrastination. Andrea ngel

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

58 Alone With My Thoughts. Sahar Herbol

Letter. Andrea ngel

SHORT STORIES - HISTORIA CORTAS

Lo nico que qued. Alejandra Carson

PLAYS - OBRAS DE TEATRO

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Basado en: La Farsa, Natalia Springer, Un Pasqun 2005

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Ana Mara Cruz 9th Grade

THE END IS NEAR

Julia Turbay 12th Grade

Silvana Olarte 11th Grade

Mariana Gonzlez 11th Grade

Santiago Gonzlez 11th Grade

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

WHO NEEDS MONKEYS & ALLIGATORS

WHEN WE CAN HAVE,

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

cars arent like big, big, just sort of big, like

the air back when we breathe out duh, so

imagine skin clothes are so expensive, it

Mara Alejandra Echavarra 9th Grade

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Chekhovs UNCLE VANYA &

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Martn Gutirrez 11th Grade

nesses; these problems include Vanyas

tury society in a more direct way, through

Freedom, by definition, is the right, or

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

is simply independent choice, whatever

hay algo ms adems del simple hecho

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Pero el misterio en torno al Ser no para ah.

la marcha hacia tal encontrar5. Es por eso

ha encontrado su esencia y por ende se encuentra en el destino del Ser volvindose

Laura Vlez 10th Grade

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Habiendo explicado esto, proceder a

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

con ms cuidado, de cuidarlo. El lenguaje,

en situacin19 y que es un ser desamparado al que lo acompaa slo su conciencia.

Gabriel Muoz 9th Grade

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

en cuenta y entender que la nica libertad

No hay que luchar contra los poderes

tener sueos y aspiraciones, ya que son

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

riormente, la eleccin de cualquier hombre

Nuestra desesperacin como creyentes no

suficientemente valiente para olvidarse de

Este escrito fue producido en la clase de sociales y

IDEAS H.S. MAGAZINE, March 2007

Laura Aparicio 11th Grade