Periscope
Littleton High School Art and Literary Magazine
Longer Literary Works
The Things She Carried
By Isabelle Tringale
The things she carries are determined largely by requirement by the school and also by her own needs. Among the requirements to carry in her bag were folders, notebooks, numerous writing utensils, books, papers, as well as a workbook or two, not including her personal items such as her phone with its charging and earphone cords, index cards for drawing, makeup products, and about three dollars worth of coins dispersed throughout the various pockets of her bag. She never carried actual money with her, the paper dollars. However, she often found abandoned coins on the ground. The weight on her back- although great on its own- was nothing in comparison to the weight of the thoughts and memories which she carried in her mind and heart.
Her grandmother always said that a penny on the ground was a penny from heaven, and someone up there was thinking of her. It was a nice thought, but often, it left her wondering which relative it was. Who brought her to mind so often? She wondered whether the pennies were to let her know that they missed her. She wondered if the pennies were to remind her of them. Whether by supernatural means, or by the sheen of the metal breaking the continuity of the bleak and dirty pavement, or simply by sheer luck, she found them, or maybe they found her.
The coins added up.
Because she was often pretty disorganized, she kept loose papers in her bag, sometimes ones that obviously belonged in a certain place, and sometimes ones that had no place. Art and worksheets and blank or mostly blank sheets of paper with only a forgotten word or two scribbled. Note Cards littered the pockets. One of the best drawings she ever did was on a green index card, and that too was somewhere in her bag, floating around without the restraints of belonging.
Belonging, she always thought, was a strange concept. She wondered if feeling like you belonged somewhere was worth losing the freedom that accompanies being an outcast. She decided she liked belonging, personally, but continued to let her items float around her bag as they pleased. Maybe it was a metaphor. Or maybe it was just because she didn’t feel like cleaning her bag out.
Isabelle, who enjoyed art and music, always had drawing supplies and her phone with earbuds handy. She was always drawing--not doodling--drawing. And whenever she could she had at least one bud in her ear playing anywhere from mellow “indie folk” to something noisy and upbeat, and most commonly, straight-up Beethoven or something along those lines.
She didn’t know why but she always got a little enjoyment when people tried to guess her favorite musical artist. Although it never changed and she listened to that artist constantly, no one could remember. It could be that similar sort of joy when in grade school, no one could guess someone’s middle name and they prided themselves in having the “unguessable” middle name. She had the unguessable music taste.
She carried that bag like Atlas held up the sky--it was a great but necessary burden.
And in her bag, although only a year old, she carried her entire life in bits and pieces of memories within it. The pennies, the papers, the music, the art. It weighed her down, but she wasn’t upset about it, necessarily. She wasn’t afraid to rid her bag of something she didn’t want or need in there.
And she didn’t need much of what she held, but the things in her bag were just simply the things she carried.
Halsey: Music’s New Riot Grrrl
By Gihanah Seb-DiDio
The 1970s and mid-1980s were nothing short of a musical revolution for women. Musicians such as Patti Smith, The Runaways, and The Slits ignited a flame in the music industry that stimulated a chain of ‘90s feminist punk rock bands, all assembled under the term Riot Grrrl. The purpose of Riot Grrrl stems from the discomfort of women in the punk rock scene, due to the intense misogyny perpetuated in punk culture. Although they actively identified themselves as part of the punk subculture, female concert-goers felt as if they had little-to-no voice in an area that was greatly predominated by men. As a way to combat the imposed sexism, these women proactively began representing themselves as punk rockers through fanzines (fan magazines), art, and music. The bands and artists within this new subgenre vigorously addressed hot-button issues such as rape, domestic abuse, sexuality, racism, and the patriarchy, which are issues that remain at the forefront of society today.
With the spiked popularity for the 2016 presidential nomination, the issues mentioned above have resurfaced within our nation. The topics of immigration and abortion/birth control have been relentlessly debated between left-wing liberals and right-wing conservatives everywhere from the CNN 2016 Presidential Debate Highlights to your very own Facebook newsfeed. But where is 2016’s Kathleen Hanna with her punchy lyrics and combative attitude? Where’s the modern-day Joan Jett with her wild, yet illustrious voice, speaking up for those who can’t.
Well, I guess we’ll just have to look in the Badlands.
Ashley Frangipane, known as her stage name “Halsey,” is the mysterious voice of reason that could not have arrived at a better time. With her #1 freshman album, Badlands, and a sold out show at Madison Square Garden, it’s amazing how a person so riotous yet tranquil can be the voice of a generation only using the two things she knows best: music and social media. As an identified bisexual, the progeny of interracial parents, Halsey utilizes her minority-status to vocalize her opinions through Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Her fans, a demographic that consists of mostly 16-25 year olds, are quick to pay their attention, and most of their time, to the things she has to say, usually topics surrounding sexism, racism, and homophobia. Halsey gives a voice for the people who dare not to speak their opinion for the fear of backlash. She gives the teenage population a push to speak about things that matter, for she sits on a platform everyday in the public eye, and openly speaks on issues that society would rather whisper than yell about.
This is not say that Halsey is the feminist prodigy that every person should look up to. In fact, she is more of a step in the right direction. For topics that the general public would rather stay away from than cling on to, Halsey’s microphone essentially acts as a speakerphone held up to America’s ears. All we have to do is listen.
On 4H
By Jessica Carter
From a very young age, I’ve felt a love and connection with animals, observing the new
visitors venturing into our big yard with each passing season. In the wintertime, I’d be lucky to
spot deer playfully prancing in the snow. With spring’s arrival came the infamous “Wally” the
woodchuck (we like to give names to our backyard friends) and his sly plans for pillaging our
garden. No matter the damage done, however, I’ve always forgiven the animals and envisioned
them as our pets. You can imagine that when my parents let me in on the secret that we’d be
getting baby bunnies for Easter, I had to stop giving my sister bunny ears in photos because it
was too obvious of a hint. Little did I know that these new additions to our family would mark the
beginning of my 4H journey.
Shortly after getting my Holland Lop, Twinkle, is the seed of my 4H journey. As I
nourished my 4H ‘flower’ I got more involved in 4H. Early on, I could easily fell into the naïve
category of people who equated 4H with raising farm animals. However, I was soon learning
that this
organization was more than just a group of clubs filled with kids interested in animal husbandry.
That may have been the emphasis years ago, but 4H has evolved into much more. With
maturation, 4H is becoming more versatile. There are more opportunities to explore, and learn,
including engineering, crafts, community service, and my favorite, public speaking.
The public speaking program is easily the crown jewel of 4H. I excel when I’m
expressing something I’m passionate about, and communicating my ideas to other people. I feel
a sense of interconnectedness with everyone in the room, and a sense of freedom to speak my
mind when I have the floor. Without question, I prefer public speeches to visual presentations
because I don’t feel confined to a display board that I must reference. Public speeches can be
more conversational and intimate between the speaker and the audience, and thus feel less
rehearsed and artificial.
My first public speech centered on a seventeen year old named Sam Berns. At age two,
Sam was diagnosed with Progeria, a rare genetic disorder that causes the body to age rapidly.
In essence, Sam had only lived for seventeen years, but his body functioned as though he were
ninety. Sam understood that the quality of life is directly linked to the state of mind. We are able
to choose how we want to feel, and Sam decided that his illness would not infect his happiness.
Despite his condition, Sam chose to live an optimistic life and the experience every day with a
positive attitude. With his encouraging spirit, perhaps we can view our daytoday struggles with
an open, rather than defeatist, mindset. Sam’s TED Talk about his philosophy for a happy life
influenced my public speech. Not only does Sam’s wisdom continue to inspire me, but after
watching his TED Talk for the first time, I admire his easygoing, but powerful presence in front of
thousands of people.
In my second speech, I shared my love of Latin, and led the audience on a metaphorical
scavenger hunt to reveal where this ancient language appears. While Latin isn’t currently
spoken, it’s disguised all around us in modern day life in common greetings, the media, the
military and government. I was frustrated up that people chose to view Latin as an entity of the
past, and wanted to make a clear point Latin didn’t fall with Rome. 4H public speeches give me
a chance to vocalize my passions. It’s so refreshing that I can deliver a speech that’s heartfelt
and inspirational one year, and one that’s informative and interesting the next.
I have taken this passion for public speaking to the next level by leading my club in
promoting the 4H fair through filmed infomercials filmed at the local cable access station. 4H
has just taught me more than just useful academic skills: it has taught me the importance of
expanding your friendship circle beyond the four walls of school. Let me paint a picture of the
simplicity of 4H friendships. Two girls, one from Littleton, and one from Chelmsford, walk into
the meeting room, setting a Holland Lop, and a Mini Lop on a tarp for rabbit social time. The
girls admiringly comment on each other’s rabbit, and from there they talk about school, sports,
extracurricular, and life experiences. They walk away as close friends. Those two girls are me
and my good friend Megan. 4H is living proof that a shared common interest, such as love of
animals, can serve as the cornerstone for friendships to be built on. 4H is able to use a cuddly
and adorable bunny as the catalyst for academic and social growth and that is purely
awesome.
CleminTIME To Stop
By Nicole Fiske
I'm no chicken. If you give me a dare, I'm not going to turn it down (unless it's obviously
illegal or could cause harm of course). So when my friends dared me to not eat anything but
clementines for five days, I was like "hell yes." This is not an exploit that I would ever
recommend to anyone, and it can, in fact, cause major harm. First of all, there is little to no
protein that can be obtained from a clementine, meaning you will be hungry 24/7 unless you eat
too many and feel sick and "vomitty." So you're either starving or sick. Unfortunately, after only
about two days, you have to deal with both simultaneously. I'd also like to point out that
clementines are high in fiber if you know what I mean. Each clementine has 1.5 grams of fiber.
When you're eating twenty a day, you're getting more than double your daily fiber intake. Not a
good choice, just saying.
Fun Fact: Clementines (or Clemens, my little nickname for them) are a citrus fruit,
meaning they are insanely acidic. The acid from those little suckers can cause some major
collateral damage to your teeth, and can cause permanent damage over prolonged exposure. The
natural sugars and acids combine to help strip the enamel and widen any previously existing
cavities. The acid also does a number in "helping you" with acid reflux. Good thing it only
permanently damages the esophagus, stomach lining, and can create ulcers and intestinal
bleeding because I had it pretty bad. However, I didn't give up! I powered through each day,
spitting the large quantities of acid into Death's grinning face. I never gave up. I never became a
chicken.
Fahrenheit 451 Creative Writing
By Katherine Stratton
Captain Beatty was dead.
Not physically, of course. No, his heart continued to circulate his blood, his lungs still
drew in polluted air through his smokescorched throat, dried out and blackened from years of
setting books ablaze. But his heart just wasn’t in it anymore. His soul wasn’t in it.
No, Beatty was dead. He had been ever since he had lost himself in a raid and
absentmindedly picked up a book that had fallen at his feet, forgetting the fire hose that he had
sworn to use to incinerate the very thing that had caused his theoretical demise.
He had provoked Montag on purpose, and he was sure that Montag knew that. All he had
wanted to see was to see that spark of life again, the very same spark that had been extinguished
within himself. He needed to see it, like an addict needs their next fix. Which had lead him to
Beatty stood there, on the lawn of Montag’s now demolished house, legs shaking in his
fire resistant boots from the sheer excitement coursing through his veins. He thumbed the strange
pilllike Seashell in his pocket; the very Seashell that he had taken from the man facing him now.
Montag was shaking as well, but somehow his grip on the flamespitting serpent seemed steady,
I should be terrified, Beatty contemplated with a maniacal mental giggle. He should be
frightened. Frightened that his life was coming to a close, frightened that he would no longer be
able to do anything more, be anything more than a depressed old fireman captain with a couple
of screws knocked loose, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care about that anymore. He was
done, washed up, finished. And he was okay with that. Yes, Beatty was ready for his physical
state to match his mental one.
With one final taunt at his armed, soontobe former subordinate, the safety to the hose
gave a sharp clicking noise, signalling that it had been switched off. Not seconds later, a
waterfall of lavahot reds, oranges and whites descended upon him, making his skin bubble and
bleed as it melted from his skeleton.
Beatty was screaming, the torment he had to endure unbearable as the tool of his own
trade roasted him alive, but he could not bring himself to care.
As he thrashed wildly on the dry brown grass, Beatty’s cries soon died down until he was
only laughing, because finally, after all this time, after all the pain he had to go through as his
soul gave up on him, he was finally able to greet death with open arms.
Now, with his exterior just as blackened and broken as his inside and his essential
functions shutting down, Beatty could only feel weightless. It was as if a burdensome weight had
been, as cliche as it sounds, lifted from his shoulders. It was a feeling that he had not experienced
in a very long time, but it was no less sweet than it had been decades ago. With his last breath
easing its way from his lips, Beatty shut what was remaining of his eyes, and relished in his new-
found feeling:
Freedom.
The Change
By Sam Yates
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING AFTERNOON
Woman,35,(CARLA) walks out of office building and into a beat up
subaru hatchback parked nearby. She starts the car, turns on
NPR, and drives away.
...And little did Sherry know that her dog was living a double
NPR
life as a human.
CARLA
Heard this one before.
EXT. CARLA’S HOUSE AfTERNOON
Carla switches the channel and proceeds to drive
The car pulls into Carla’s driveway, but is surprised to see
another car at her house. Hesitant, Carla gets out of her car
and walks towards her house. As she opens the door, she hears
someone speaking. Carla doesn’t live with anybody else, so she
thinks she is being robbed. She grabs an umbrella for defense
and slowly enters the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table is
Carla’s beloved labradoodle, Benji, speaking on the phone and
dressed in a sensible three piece suit with a hole cut into the
back of his trousers from which his tail is gently wagging.
CARLA
BBenji?
Benji turns around to see Carla and frantically puts his
cellphone into his pocket.
BENJI
Carla?! What are you doing home?
CARLA
I got off of work early. What’s going on? Benji? What is this?
BENJI
Carla...I’m...
Carla recalls the story on NPR
CARLA
No...NO! Why? Why are you doing this?!
BENJI
Carla, calm down.
CARLA
How long?
Benji doesn’t say anything
CARLA
How long, Benji?!
BENJI
Well, I’ve known I’ve wanted to be this forever, but I’ve only
started actually being this about 8 months ago.
CARLA
You’ve know forever?
BENJI
In some ways, yes.
CARLA
But Benji, I’ve known you forever. None of this makes sense! You
would have told me.
BENJI
I couldn’t tell you.
CARLA
And why is that? You’re my dog...were my dog...
BENJI
And I still am! But if told you, you wouldn’t have accepted me,
or at least the real me.
CARLA
I would have learned, Benji!
BENJI
Oh, like you learned how to accept my friendship with Shauna’s
golden retriever?
CARLA
That is different, and you know it!
BENJI
Is it?
CARLA
You know very well that Shauna is a terrible woman and my mortal
enemy. How dare you bring her up at a time like this. It is an
extremely sore subject.
BENJI
She upstaged you at a neighborhood potluck, who cares?
CARLA
She stole my tetrazzini recipe and everybody knows it!
Carla and Benji are both silent as Carla attempts to manage her
temper. She takes a deep breath
CARLA
Your English is perfect.
BENJI
Thank you. I’ve been working on it.
CARLA
Have you been taking classes?
BENJI
Actually yes, at the community center. They offer classes
through Parks and Rec.
CARLA
So that means other people know...about you.
Benji looks away, refusing to look Carla in the eye
CARLA
I guess the joke's on me then. Silly Carla who’s clueless to
everything, and can’t even make a casserole for the potluck!
BENJI
No! No one thinks that!
CARLA
How have you even been paying for the classes, Benji?
BENJI
Well, the classes aren’t that expensive to begin with, but I
have a friend at the community center who is helping me out.
CARLA
Do mean Fran, my best friend, who works at the community center?
She knows and has been helping you this whole time?! That
untrustworthy harlot!
BENJI
Well, Fran did know, but she isn’t the one who has been helping
me with the classes...
CARLA
You don’t mean...
Benji looks away
CARLA
Shauna?! Shauna knew?!
BENJI
She’s actually been very helpful through this whole process.
CARLA
That smug little turd. She has been acting strangely nice to me
lately, and now I know it’s because she delighted in the fact of
knowing a secret. To think that all this time she’s had
leverage! Who else knows Benji?
BENJI
Well...
CARLA
Who else, Benji?!
BENJI
How could anyone not know?! I voluntarily bathe, I love
haircuts, and I groom my fur like I have something to prove!
Only an idiot wouldn’t put two and two together.
CARLA
So, now I’m an idiot?
BENJI
No, no! That’s not what I meant.
CARLA
Benji, I just thought you were more in touch with your humanity
than other dogs. I never thought you were this in touch!
BENJI
Well, this is me! So, either you get on board, or I’m leaving.
CARLA
So you can go live with your best friend Shauna?
Stop! This isn’t about Shauna! This is about your acceptance of
You know what? I’m late for my job, which by the way, pays
BENJI
who I am!
CARLA
Benji, I...
BENJI
better than yours.
Benji storms out leaving Carla alone in the kitchen. Carla yells
after Benji.
CARLA
Well, that’s not saying much, so joke’s on you!
Carla sits alone in the kitchen, but after a while gets up
frantically, and begins to run after Benji.
CARLA
Benji! Benji wait!
Carla begins to run after Benji’s car (the car that she
unexpectedly saw in her driveway).
CARLA
Benji! Stop the car! I’m sorry!
Camera shows Benji driving in the car singing along to Adele’s
“Someone Like You” and softly sobbing. Then, he looks in his
rear view mirror, and sees Carla running after him. He pulls
over the car and gets out.
BENJI
Carla, what are you doing? You’ve always told me that it’s
dangerous to chase cars!
CARLA
Benji, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Benji and Carla embrace and Benji then lies on the ground and
exposes his tummy to Carla as he is waging his tail. Carla takes
the hint and rubs his tummy.
BENJI
See? I’m still partially my old self.
CARLA
I know that now, Benji, and I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I
didn’t realize how much of a toll his process has taken on you. I was
only thinking of myself.
BENJI
You know what? How’s about a game of fetch?
CARLA
As long as I get to take you to lunch afterwards.
BENJI
Sounds perfect.
Carla and Benji begin to walk down the street and into the sunset,
leaving the car abandoned in the middle of the road.
CARLA
Oh, and Benji?
BENJI
Yes, Carla?
CARLA
If you ever talk to Shauna again, I’ll have you put down.
How To Be A Woman
By Kelly Davis
1. When a strange man in the streets of Boston says to you “Smile, hottie!” while you walk
to dinner with your family, crack a grin, like a good girl would.
2. Don’t show your shoulders, like ever. Refrain from attracting fellow male students
because obviously their education is more important than yours.
3. When someone tells you to vote for a female candidate to bond women together, you nod
your head and agree to vote for Hillary Rodham Clinton even though everything she says
is against your views.
4. When your middle school principal tells you to cover up because you distract him,
comply to his will, as your fashion is more important than your education.
5. When John Kasich during a debate tells women to come out of the kitchen to vote for
him, listen to your grandfather as he tells you that Kasich lived in a “different time”.
6. Don’t talk back when your father tells you to do your brother’s chores because men are
messier, and that you need to train to be a domestic housewife when you are older.
7. Refrain from eating full serving sizes, if anything at all, so you can fit into the dress he
wants you to wear while he shows you off like a trophy to the world, as you are only
worth what his friends think of you.
8. If you choose to discuss politics with your grandfather, expect comments from him
telling you to stop making yourself a victim.
9. Disregard steps 18.
10. Find women role models in your life. Remember that there is safety in numbers. Bond
with other women who will influence your life and could save you one day. Whether they
are family or famous, listen to their morals and look up to them. Love your mother, as she
is the most important woman in your life, and will teach you to be strong and
independent, and to stand up for your rights and education.
The Hound’s Perspective in Fahrenheit 451
By Jack Palaia
The man approached with his hand stretched out.
“Hello,” he said. The man wore a fire suit; he was one of them. The hound could smell it.
The hound lit up, a neon light flickering inside the cold mechanical frame of its body. The man
drew back a little, but didn’t stop approaching all together. He came closer and closer. The
hound could smell him, he had the scent of a fireman, the scent of kerosene and smoke. He
wasn’t like the rest however, there was a different smell. The man set his hand on the hound’s
muzzle. The hound’s internal cogs turned, the olfactory system kicking into gear. The man had a
particular scent to him; the scent of rebellion, the scent of revolution. He couldn’t be trusted. The
hound’s cognitive sensors and computers tried to figure out what this man was. On one hand, he
was a fireman, but on the other hand, he had the scent of mutiny,the scent of rebellion.
The hound bared its razor sharp fangs and growled.
“No, no, boy.” The man said. The hound got up gradually from the steel cage, its internal
processes firing up as a defense mechanism.
He couldn’t be trusted.
The hound extended the needle from its mouth, and pulled it back in. It then took it back
out, the chrome proboscis extending a few inches into the air, probing the air with suspicion. The
man backed up. The hound advanced, honing in on the target. The man, at the last second,
grabbed the brass, glimmering pole, and shot up to the second floor of the building. The hound
stayed there, looking up at where the man had disappeared. The hound knew that scent, he had
smelled it before. It was the same scent that it was trained to kill. The hound knew.
He couldn’t be trusted.
How To Know You Have Anxiety
By Sarah Gordon
One the psychologist told you so.
Two Really. It's right there on your medical record but the letters G.A.D. are not what makes you different.
One, two, three, you pull the shower curtain back to make sure no one is on the other side waiting to stab you under hot water. And you haven't even seen Psycho.
Four for everyone else, the teacher calls their name and they say "here." For you, the letters creep down to yours and dread falls over your body and not too loud not too quiet not too low not too squeaky not too early not too late the right sound the right tone - "here."
Five all your friends definitely only hang out with you because they feel bad.
Six you're not even shy. You wish you were because maybe then you'd be scared to speak instead of rambling your stupid opinions as every cell in your body tells you to just shut up.
Number seven. you can't cut a slice of bread, the knife's too big.
Eight you do really well in school and sometimes people try to tell you it's because you're smart but you can't exactly believe them when you spend chaotic days and silent nights working and worrying and working and worrying because nine you just aren't good enough and ten you are sitting at your kitchen table sobbing over a biology textbook and your mother has to grab your hands and tell you a B is okay.
Eleven normal kids don't remember every dumb thing they've ever said twelve normal kids can talk on the phone thirteen normal kids dont have a list of 52 greatest fears fourteen my dream is to live in a city but I can barely walk out my own door
Fifteen. you stand in the rainfall of your perfect storm and
Sixteen. You Breathe.