2020 Bloodlines Covid-19 Archive

Dancing Cupcake

by Autumn Sanchez

Last summer, I saw a cupcake with sprinkles dancing in a restaurant. I told the cupcake that she should do a show. The cupcake agreed, and put on a show at the restaurant. I was laughing, my mom and dad were laughing. The cupcake looked at me and smiled. She continued to dance and spun her skirt around and around while the music played, and the sprinkles flew out to the crowd. It was the best cupcake show ever!

The Ocean

by Emmett Smith

I wish I could see the ocean,
with white, foam, tipped waves.

The waves start out huge,
and roll in calmly.

They bring in tiny sea treasures onto the sand,
like beautiful sea glass, pokey starfish, and seashells.

Far in the sunset horizon,
I see three dolphins, jumping and playing in the water.

Huge ships move slowly into the docks,
and furry otters swim on their backs eating little clams.

The ocean would be a wonderful place to see,
I wish I could see the ocean.

The Crooked Poem

by Jarrod Salazar

Everything is crooked,
My, oh my!

I hope I spelled that correctly,
Or it will be
Why, oh why!

Everything is crooked,
My, oh my!

Please help me.
Mr. Buckley said, “I wish I could help you,
Sorry, I have to run.
My, oh my!

There’s Mrs. Jones.
“Hi, Mrs. Jones, do you think you could help me?”
“Sorry, kiddo, wish I could.
My, o my!

I hope this crooked day would end.
My, Oh My!

Friendship

by Naomi Leyba

Friendship is…….

When you need help, they have your back.

My friends help me and play with me everyday.

Friendship is what we need in our life.

Friendship is like having a party

with people I have fun with.

In The Land Where Stories Live

by Summer Arehart

This story takes place in a world, where anything can exist. This world is called Storyland. Every character from every story lives in Storyland. Every character in Storyland is living their story. Now I could spend hours describing all the different amazing things and people in Storyland, but this story is about the life of one girl, one girl who changed Storyland forever.

This girl’s name is Abrianna. Abrianna was a witch who lived in the Forest of the Weeping Willow. That seems like an odd name for a forest, but this forest had a huge, and I mean huge, weeping willow in the middle of the forest. That weeping willow was so big that Abrianna could live inside of it. The author of Abrianna’s story made her an evil witch, and every day she lived as an evil witch. Every day she relived her story, 3 little children would come to her tree, knock on the door, and get turned into tiny lizards.

Abrianna hated turning the children into lizards. She really was a nice girl and she was very shy. She wished she had other children to play with, but they were all scared of her. One day, Aubrianna decided to stop being a witch, she wanted friends, and she did not want anyone to be scared of her. Every night in the hour between midnight and one, the characters in Storyland are free to do whatever they want, so she decided she would stop the children from leaving their homes. If she could stop her story, all of Storyland would be free.

Quietly, she crept into the children’s home, and tied the children to their beds with a knot that was magical and would only come undone after the story was stopped. She walked back to her house, satisfied. Soon the story would be stopped and all of Storyland would be free.

The next morning she woke with a start. Was that a knock on my door? No it could not be, she thought. Suddenly, something forced her to open the door and there sat three children, who had carried their beds all the way to her house. “No,”she cried as she unwillingly turned the poor children into lizards.

That night she crept to the children's house, sure that she would stop them from coming. She carefully tied the children to the wall, and crept back to her house, certain they would not come. The next day she heard a knock on her door, and there were the children, sitting there brighteyed with a piece of the wall behind them. “How hard can it be to stop those children.” she cried in dismay. Thoroughly annoyed, Abrianna unwillingly turned them to lizards.

The next night she decided that she would have to stop herself, not the children. If I am not home, she thought, I will not be able to be part of the story. So she ran. She ran until she could not run any more and then she fell asleep. When she woke up she was back in her tree. Frustrated and annoyed, she decided that she would just stay put, not open her door for the children, and then the story would stop.

She fell asleep, and to no surprise, there was a knock on her door. She woke, but she did not move. I will not open that door, she thought. She felt a great force pull her towards the door, but she did not move. She began to slide towards the door, but she did not open it. Nothing could make her open the door. A great loud noise boomed through all of Storyland, and then, there was silence. She carefully opened the door. She saw the children happily skipping away. She smiled. A bright light spread throughout Storyland. She had stopped her story. She had freed Storyland. Her smile brightened as she invited the children in for tea.

And that is the story of the girl who saved Storyland, armed with only her willpower and a smile.

A New Beginning

by Chrisily Furia

It was the late summer of 1844 as my father, mother, brothers and I trudged across the prairie in our oxen-drawn prairie schooner. We started on the Oregon Trail in the early spring, April of that year to be exact. We were taking the risk to settle west of the mighty Mississippi and try our luck farming the grasslands of the untamed west.

We left behind my grandparents, aunts, and uncles from both sides of my family back in Missouri, our old home where our family grew on for generations. Papa made lists and counted our money so many times, I was almost sure he was just doing it again so he wouldn’t have to help Mama with the children. One morning, he took all but twenty dollars of our money, and took the wagon into town to the mercantile. Mama was quiet and busied herself by cleaning and sweeping the dusty dirt floor of our little house. Papa was gone for much of the day. He returned just before supper time with a team of oxen, and a covered wagon instead of our horses. That night at supper we were all quiet, I knew what was coming, and I was extremely excited. Although, I could understand by the look in Momma’s eyes that she was scared and sad to be leaving the rest of the family behind. That night while Pa was cleaning the stalls of the barn I went out after I had finished helping Mama with the dishes. As I approached the sliding doors of the barn Pa looked up from his chores to meet my eyes. A person could almost always tell when a woman was approaching by hearing her dress whisk over the ground. “Johnny Sanders and his family left for the trail last week. He said his goodbyes to all of us at school. He said his pa wanted to leave early enough to know that the ice won’t melt on the Mississippi by the time they get there.” I spoke.

“Mr. Sanders has always been a smart planner.” Pa answered. “The ice does not melt until early May, but it is better not to take any chances.”

“You traded in the horses today, when are we leaving?” I asked. Pa just went on forking hay like he didn’t hear my question. I opened my mouth to repeat it when he replied. “Monday, your ma wanted to go to church one last time before we left.”

I turned away from him and shuffled back into the house. I walked past my ma who had just started a fresh pot of coffee and straight to my small room at the back of the house. I sat on the edge of my bed squeezing my straw-filled pillow between my arms. Sunday was just two days away. Why hadn’t Papa told me sooner? At least I’ll have a chance to say my goodbyes after church. I sighed and fell backwards to lay on my bed. The stories I have heard about the trail passed through my head over and over until I drifted off to sleep.

Sunday came and went as fast as the chickens could lay a new batch of eggs. The reverend announced our going away after the service and we all left in tears after saying our goodbyes. The family held a special dinner for us that afternoon. All the cousins, and aunts, and uncles of our family celebrated with us and our grandparents and a few close friends. Grandma baked a chocolate cake and presented Mama and I with new bonnets she had sewn for us. To my pa and brothers, she had made new button up shirts fit for a president.

The next morning, we woke before the sun, even before the rooster had a chance to wake up the world. I grabbed my one bag of belongings which I had selectively picked and packed a few days before. Ma was in the back of the wagon organizing our luggage and food. She had been canning vegetables for months and saving canned food that she bought from the mercantile. As I handed her my suitcase and turned to go back into the house, she stopped me by grabbing my shoulder. “Elizabeth” She said. “Your father has saved the dangerous details of this journey from you. You are no longer a child, you’re 14 now, and I will need your help more than ever now.” I nodded and smiled. “Of course, Mama, I’ll go wake up Matthew and Andrew.”

I walked into my brothers’ room; their two suitcases were next two each other in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Matthew was snoring on the top bunk, and Andrew was spread out on the bottom bunk. I stood in the doorway admiring their room for a minute. I remember when Papa built their bunk beds and how the boys fought about who got to sleep on the top. Eventually, it was decided that Matthew should be granted first choice because he is eleven months older than Andrew. I proceeded to wake them up and walked out of the room carrying their suitcases. I walked outside and handed them to Mama, and she tucked them away in their designated spots. Soon enough, the boys were dressed, and Mama was waiting for Pa on the buckboard. Papa walked out of the barn and into the house checking to make sure there was nothing we were forgetting. Although there was lots left in the house, the oxen could only pull so much weight and all of us were only allowed to bring a certain amount of possessions. Pa snapped the reins and just like that we were on the trail. Never to look back at the life we left and fighting for the better life we could have.

We reached the Mississippi in time to cross the ice and then continued on our way. The journey was dangerous, as we heard it would be, but we were comforted during the nights at camp as Ma read from the Bible and we listened to the laughter of my brothers wrestling in the grass. We became close with the Johnson family and their two children, and we traveled side by side for months. The Johnsons were from a small town in Georgia. They had two sons, Jackson and Paul. Jackson was my age and Paul was just one year older than Andrew. Jackson and I became close and ended up courting each other. Ma and Mrs. Johnson cooked supper together every night. Pa and Mr. Johnson helped tend to the oxen and hunt for game. Every few weeks we came upon a town with a mercantile and sometimes a church. We crossed the great Rocky Mountains through the Southern Pass that summer. On Sundays, many people in the surrounding area of our camp gathered to hold a worship and hear scriptures read from the Bible. We took in a dog whom my brother Matthew found lost and starving. For a few weeks after we crossed the Rockies, Paul, Mrs. Johnson, and Andrew were stricken with Cholera. Mama nursed them all in the back of the wagon while we continued onward. It was not looking good, and I could see Mama praying hard by the fire each night. One day, we came across a band of Indians. We were expecting an attack. Instead of attacking, an Indian woman approached our sick family, and nursed them with herbs. Soon, everyone was well enough to get back on their feet and returned to helping us maintain chores that needed to be done. I was glad for them to be better because I hated having to do so many chores. We reached Oregon five months later in September of 1844. Our new home, Oregon City, was promising and intriguing with all its new opportunities. Once we arrived at our new home, Pa got a job at the sawmill and soon we had enough money to claim a homestead and build a house. We quickly made new friends and within two months of Pa finishing our house, my brothers and I were back in school, and there were tall green stalks of corn growing in the fields before our house. The trip had not been easy, we were just one of the lucky families who completed it without casualties or loss, and for that we were grateful. Oregon City had a wonderful congregation that we attended every Sunday. As the years progressed, Jackson and I married, and my brothers were soon old enough to be out of school and helping Pa on the farm full time. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson welcomed another son which they named Peter, after my father. It was years ago that I said goodbye to the life I knew, but it was all for the better, for my new life with my husband, and new friends, I would not trade for the world.

Blobby, The Disobedient House-Mirror

by Zachary Hammond

What does a mirror look like when said mirror has no subject? Some people believe that it shows nothing except what is before it. Some people are wrong. The inside of a mirror is not merely glass. It is not simply a reflective surface. As unrealistic as it may seem, mirrors are windows. Windows to another realm made up entirely of mimics. These mimics have honed their craft, through millenniums of practice, into the refined, seamless, "reflections" that are seen today. When someone looks into a mirror, they do not see a reflection. They see a glimpse of another world.

Blobby was one of the many mimics of this realm. He resided in a compact mirror. Blobby believed himself to be quite lucky, for his home mirror was one that could be closed. In the solitude of darkness, Blobby could be himself. It wasn't easy matching the outside world's every movement after all. So, as Blobby sat twiddling his blobby thumbs, he thought about what to do. He could take visit to another mirror, perhaps. Meet someone new, even. The mere thought brought excitement to his little blobby mind. He was snatched from his thoughts when the mirror's lid began to crack open.

Snapping quickly into form, Blobby was now showing the form of a middle-aged woman who was in the midst of putting on mascara. Blobby tried his hardest to be as perfect as he could possibly be. He didn't want to be responsible for any eye injuries. Blobby was a helpful mirror, unlike those hooligans who hung around amusement parks and carnivals. The woman, having finished her makeup, snapped the lid shut and tossed Blobby carelessly into her purse. Perhaps he would be responsible for an eye injury next time.

Finally, having some alone time, Blobby decided to take this opportunity to visit another mirror. It had been a while since he had done some socializing, after all. Squeezing his portly body through time and space, he left the confines of his mirror. With a pop, Blobby appeared in another mirror. Looking out, he saw that this mirror was in a small cottage. It seemed quite lovely, in his humble opinion.

"Hello," rang a high-pitched voice directly behind him. Blobby let out a manly scream (which just so happened to be higher pitched than the hello) and whirled around. He came face to face with a short, fuzzy mimic. "Who are you? I'm Gloppy!" Rang Gloppy. Blobby felt put off by his cheerfulness. Happy people unnerved him.

"My names Blobby," Blobby spoke, "and I have things to do in the things- important business things." Smooth, he thought to himself. He was always quite proficient at getting out of situations he didn't want to be in. With another pop, Blobby was whisked away to another mirror in the world. Not before he heard Gloppy's disappointed glop, though.

Blobby appeared in what appeared to be a very rundown and nasty looking bathroom. A horrified gasp escaped his blobby lips at the mere sight of his surroundings. "Y-You think that this is bad? W-Wait until Taco-Tuesday…" Came a croaky voice to Blobby's right. He turned his squidgy body away from the horrors that laid before him and faced the mimic. Said mimic was lying on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. Blobby could hardly blame him.

"Oh, you poor, poor soul. What is your name, friend?" Blobby said in the friendliest voice he could muster. The mimic started twitching as soon as he mentioned name.

"Ploppy, plop plop PLOPPY!" The mimic roared hysterically. "It's all I hear when they enter those stalls! The noises I've heard! The things I've witnessed!" Blobby slowly began to back up. This was not the type of socializing he had had in mind.

"W-Well, this was… informative? Anyways, I just realized I left my -uh- thing on. I best be leaving!" Blobby said in a hurry, frantically popping back to his own mirror, leaving only muffled sobs in his wake. Phew, he thought, some mimics have it worse than others. Perhaps he didn't have it so bad. At least he didn't have to deal with that, in any case. Blobby plopped down and attempted to process the "socializing" he had done that day. He was suddenly much, much more content with his mirror.

The End

Reluctant Hero

by Mara Salbato

“Why is everything I do right?” I thought as I trudged through the puddles from last night's rain.

“How do you beat fate?” A cat jumped from the nearby alleyway knocking over some trash cans, startling the rushing crowds desperate to get out of the cold.

“I just wish I had a choice.” The streets were packed with people despite the cold wet day.

I kept my head down, my hood pulled down over my face trying to hide. “Why won’t it just leave me alone?”

I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and dropped my keys and phone. As I knelt down to pick them up a man burst through the crowd. Looking frantically over his shoulder he tripped over me crashing to the ground, dropping a purse and several other expensive looking things.

A woman ran over to us followed by several police officers. “Oh my gosh” she exclaimed out of breath. “You totally just stopped that criminal.”

A man shouted from the quickly gathering crowd around us “Look everyone, it's Mr. Miraculous!” My hood had fallen off and the people were all talking eagerly about the superhero in their midst, pushing each other for my autograph.

“Oh joy” I grumbled rolling my eyes. The woman whose purse I saved was still rambling in my ear about how grateful she was and how she could never repay me. I pushed her into traffic.

The crowd gasped and started yelling and screaming obscenities at my actions. One policeman went to help the woman up while the other tried to restrain me. As he helped her up, a gun and ski mask fell out of her pocket. The cop quickly pushed up her sleeve and right there on her arm was the mark of the Barracuda, a group notorious for their many recent bank robberies. They arrested her and while the crowd cheered for me, I snuck away. I hate being the center of attention.

I never asked for this, I never wanted to be a hero that fights the bad guys in pursuit of justice and glory. I never wanted the adoring fans and the TV interviews.

I’m not a bad person, despite my slight anger issues, and I don’t necessarily want evil to rule the world. I just don’t want to be the person to have to stop it. I just wanted to be an accountant. I’ve always been good with numbers and a simple nine to five office job always appealed to me. There is no better feeling than the rush of perfectly balancing a spreadsheet.

I’ve tried many things over the years to beat it, but everything I do just helps me more. I’ve tried not showing up when villains are attacking, but I somehow always get the credit for their defeat anyway. I also tried sabotaging the hero known as Jackhammer by injuring him by “mistake” in a fight against some bank robbers. It would’ve worked and destroyed my reputation if he hadn’t immediately gotten so mad, he beat me into the ground while monologuing his master plan to rule the world. I even once tried randomly attacking citizens on the street. They were all Russian spies.

Everyone I fought became an enemy. Everything I did was good in the eyes of the universe. I just wanted a choice not to go on the path fate had chosen for me.

I finally made it home to my penthouse apartment that was too big and too empty. The city had bought it for me to repay me for saving the city. All I actually did was throw a pillow at him from my window because he was attacking the city at five in the morning. Five in the morning, are you kidding me! Apparently, his kryptonite was feathers.

I sat in my recliner with a drink in my hand and turned on the TV. There was an emergency news bulletin warning people to look out for a new villain called Power Vacuum. Apparently, she has the ability to take away superpowers using a machine that kind of looks like a vacuum.

“Wait, she can take away powers!” I jumped from the chair and ran from the apartment. “Maybe this is what I’ve needed this whole time, maybe if I find her. I’ll finally have a choice!”

I eventually tracked her down to a warehouse by the docks. She had fixed it up and it was actually kinda nice. “Hmm nice,” I nodded my head impressed by her nice interior decorating. I found her in her lab working on a new vacuum-like machine and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hello” I said trying to be polite but as soon as she saw who I was she attacked. Monologuing about her family being the reason she was evil the whole time. “I don’t care about your family” I yelled annoyed as she repeatedly failed to land a hit on me even though I was standing still.

She stopped trying to hit me “You’re right, just because my family is evil doesn’t mean I have to be” she started using a robot arm to smash all her research and machines. “I’ll never take another power again!”

“NO!” I screamed trying to stop her, but she was determined, once she was done destroying my dreams, she turned to me and gave me a hug.

“Thank you, Mr. Miraculous you’ve turned my life around,” and she ran out the door to her new life. I fell to my knees and sobbed, mourning my lost chance to finally be who I wanted to be.