For Unit One, the English II Honors classes had to write an original Autobiographical Short Story.  In an effort to inspire the students to publish, the English II Honors instructors required the students to post their stories on a poster board complete with a cover for their published work.  Students then voted on their top three favorite stories.  The prize for the author with the most votes?  His or her story published in the Talon!  Below are the stories for you to enjoy. 

Sophomore Jazmin Perez is in Michelle Marchese’s English Honors class –

All my life I had wanted to grow up and do something different with my life than the average small girl. I’ve lived an independent life and I’m stronger than most people think. At just the age 16 I have gone through so much from doctors saying I would never be able to walk when I was born to almost dying at a hospital. In the womb I was being choked by the umbilical cord and two tumors were squeezing me and hurting me. The day I was born I was put in a diaper cast because my hips were dislocated. I had trouble eating and had to get therapy to learn how to eat baby food. At the age of 10, I got E-Coli which is a rod-shaped bacteria in the lower intestine. In adults it isn’t usually harmless but with kids it can be life-threatening. ‘Til this day I still cannot eat ground beef. I’ve fought through everything this world has thrown at me and I don’t want all of that to mean nothing. That’s where the Air Force comes to place. I am captivated by the armed services mission and I don’t plan on being an onlooker I want people to look at me and be inspired by me. I want them to know I did this for our freedom and rights.

I remember the first time I asked. I was about ten at the time.

“Mom, what would you say about me joining the Air Force?” I felt my stomach start to turn and my legs shake as I waited for an answer. I just wanted to jump into her mind and make the decision for her. Tears were in the back of my eyes and I didn’t even know the answer yet. I got an answer right away. Just as I expected…

“No! N-O! That is not an option! If you’re trying to kill me then that’s the way to do it.”

Her eyes were glued to my face, eyebrows showing anger and disappointment. The ocean invading my eyes slowly turning into Niagara Falls but I couldn’t let her catch a glimpse of the scene going on with my face. How could the only person whose approval mattered to me be the one to say no? I wasn’t planning on giving up any time soon

After being denied many times, I finally decided that she wasn’t going to agree with me joining the Air Force. I had given up on my lifelong dream. I decided to please her by saying that I wanted to be a lawyer and for a long time I really did believe that I wanted to be a lawyer. My family would ask things like:

“What are you planning on doing after high school?” or “When you grow what are you going to major in?”

I’d answer, “I want to go to Harvard Law School and become a lawyer,” as if I was an actor in a play and that was MY line.

I never once mentioned the Air Force to them. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Yet, quietly, when no one was around I would watch military videos and movies. Deep inside, my void would not be fulfilled until I was part of the Armed Forces.

It was on August 23, 2012. That was the day of my boyfriend’s basic training graduation. It was one of the most memorable days in my life. Me, a girl in love with the military, surrounded by thousands of soldiers at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. The best part is that I got to experience what I always wanted. I got to go to an Army base AND watch my boyfriend walk across the stage going in as a civilian and coming out a soldier. Seeing all of these soldiers made me see that I just had to be part of that. Everywhere I walked I fell in love with what I saw. It’s part of me. It’s a love I will never be able to explain.

Taking my last chance, I asked once again. I asked her at the perfect place. My mother stared at me long and hard. I was trying to evaluate her thoughts but I couldn’t read her. Her face had no expression. Then finally her mouth slowly began to open and out came the words:

“I’m not going to be the reason you’re dream is fulfilled. If the Air Force is what you want, then I fully support it.”

Her words marked the beginning of a new life for me. I finally started telling people what I really wanted to do. Since that day, I have been preparing myself. I eat faster so that I will be able to do so at the “Chow hall” which is the lunchroom/dining hall. I workout and am developing a six pack. Anytime I hear the word military, my attention is quickly on whoever or wherever I hear the word come from. My boyfriend is in the army and before he joined I knew so much more about the army than he did. When he would come back from the recruiting office he would tell me what they told him he required or what he had to follow and he would just look at me and say, “Oh wait, you know that already don’t you?”. I had spent most of my childhood looking at and researching military things. I still do that now. If I want to do something, I need to be informed on what it’s really like don’t I? Seeing my boyfriend and family members in the military only makes me want to do it more. I see what they do for us civilians and I want to be a part of that. I was brought to this world for a reason and I plan on making a difference. Now I can strive toward the dream that I had long been dreaming of. I already know more than most people do when they first join because I’ve been doing so much research. I am finally working full out to achieve my goal. In two years from now, God willing, I will be serving my country and protecting civilians.

Albert Parcero  is in Jeanette Gagliardi’s English Honors class –

The heat grew intense as the sun radiates the black stone floor beneath us. I had the ball knowing this next point would win the game. As I sized up my defender, I quickly crossed the ball between my legs, then going behind the back, I left my defender dumbfounded and attacked the basket. Everything happened so quickly. As I jumped to finish the lay up, I felt an unbearable pain. My hamstring and calf muscles tightened, paralyzing my entire left leg. Then I hit the ground hard. I screamed in pain, unable to get up or walk. My friend Brian, a scrawny but tall dark skinned males’ face grew grotesque and carried me and rushed me home. I can immediately tell that things were not looking pretty.

They escorted me, my face wincing in pain. We moved faster and more urgent. The court becoming a blurry haze as my friends rushed to my house. Each minute worsened. Every second I felt like my leg was on fire, burning its way higher and higher up my body. I remember Arthur trying to calm me down. Finally, we arrived at my house. The door stood ajar, and in an instant the door flew by like its been kicked down by a lumberjack. My parents came rushing out. My dad has a curious look on his face and ask my friend what happened? My friend looked down in dismay and said “He landed awkwardly and couldn’t get up.”

We rushed to the car. I was layed down on the back accompanied by one of my friends. We rushed to the nearest hospital. Every second was an eternity in pain. After twenty-five minutes of driving we arrived. We got a wheelchair. I was strapped on and rushed to the building.The anticipation was killer while waiting for the results. Finally the doctor came out, holding a clipboard and a small wooden, banged up mallet. He tapped my hamstring and I shouted in agonizing pain. His face grew tremulous. He got out and told me “ You partially tore your hamstring. We will begin surgery to repair it in three days.” I sat there shocked wondering how am i going to bear the pain for three more days. The doctor came back bearing a neatly packaged box with medicine to halt the pain till the procedure. The following days dragged on, leaving me anxious and nervous, second guessing all the possibilities. “What if the procedure goes wrong?” I thought to myself. My brain took every possibility and turned them into a situation where things went wrong. Finally after three days of waiting, we headed to the hospital.

I looked at my leg for the first time since the accident. I noticed that it grew pale and looked purple in comparison to my other leg. After the longest twenty-five minutes of my life, we arrived. I walked in and was wheelchaired into a changing room, where i changed from my clothes to scrubs. They brought in a stretcher, one that looked worn out and abused. My face went flat. They hoisted me up, and gently placed me on the stretcher. The next two minutes, almost gave me an anxiety attack. We strolled through a dimmed hallway, where one light bulb flickered on and off. The scene was horrific, It was something you might’ve seen from a horror movie. We went further and further down the hall. Every little detail derailed my focus. From the green mold on the corner of the walls, to the peeling retro paint, my confidence slipped. Finally The stretcher swiveled through a corridor, and we reached my room. Inside the room my eyes swiveled around. The room was white, with iv monitors, and a table of torture instruments, nestled alongside a cold steel death bed. The surgeon and four assistants created a half circle on the underside of the steel desk. They greeted me, the tone in their voice sounded like they relished killing. They put me on the table, and upon contact, the hairs on the back of my neck stood, hovering above the cold embrace of death, which was the table. The nurse put a mask around me and picked up 4 needles. These needles, although clean, looked very worn out. The varied thought of the procedure failing was just too much for a 12 year old boy to handle. The nurse injected numbing agents to my leg. In thirty seconds my eyes closed, but before I knocked out I heard Them say, “ Let’s begin.”

What came next was something no one would’ve expected. My eyes opened midway through the procedure. I lay on the table, chest down. My hazy eyes adjusted and I scanned the area trying to remember where I was. I recognized the white walls and the cold sleek floor, but something caught my eyes. It appeared to be a pool of crimson. Yes it was crimson red. I realized it was blood, my blood. I pushed myself up, but I was deprived of energy. My body collapsed, and my remaining energy was sucked out of me. In that split second the world froze. One of the nurses looked shocked. Her jaw dropped to the floor, face frozen as if she has just saw a ghost. My face turns pale. Every nerve in body sent shivers up my spine. I took this the wrong way and began to panic. “ Get more knockout gas!” The surgeon shouted.

“ We can’t spare anymore! Another patient is critically injured!”, replied the nurse.

The news, shocked me to the core. I was terrified, yet I knew I wouldn’t feel anything because of the anesthetics. The nurse approached me telling me that I had to stay awake through the rest of the procedure. I laid there, my back still turned. I knew I wouldn’t feel the pain, but the thought of me still being awake during all of this crippled my confidence. I complied, but my insides were churning. The silver scalpel cut my skin as if it was butter. I smelled the blood and saw lots of it the bed I laid upon. The nurse, dressed in a an aquamarine colored scrubs, knelt right next to me and whispered soothing words. The surgeons continued on as the nurse kept asking me simple questions like where I was from or how my day was. I thought in my head “Geez I don’t know; I woke up in the middle of surgery and I am now currently watching myself get cut open. How do you think my day was?” Although repetitive I, I appreciated the effort. After an hour and a half I was finished. I was brought to a room where I fell asleep. I was able to go home two days later.

After the surgery, I felt great. I felt like I was indestructible. Ever since this enticing experience I have never been scared of anything. For some awkward, messed up reason, I feel like this experience has gotten rid of fear within my mind. I am hardly scared of anything anymore; so I guess I should be thanking the Gods for this horrific experience.

Trinity Rubio is in Jeanette Gagliardi’s English Honors class –

At the age of 11, my mom decided we needed to move. We had lived in Northlake for 5 years, and relocated to Franklin Park. My family and I needed a change after what we had been through in the past year. Not only were we more distant than ever, but we no longer felt like a real family. My parents got divorced when I was 5 years old, and my mother had got remarried nearly 2 years later. It was my older brother, my older sister, and me. But when my mom found out she was pregnant with my younger brother, it was the happiest time of our lives. But, something happened. Something that no words can explain, and the way I felt could never be expressed, Not only did I lose someone I loved, I lost another part of me. And I remember that day more clearly than any other.

It was Wednesday September 11, 2008. I had been 10 years old at the time. Usually, I’d wake up to my little brother crying but the house was completely silent. My mom had left to work early and my brother was asleep. This surprised me, since he’s up at about 6:30 every morning and it was already 7. But, I continued my daily routine. I walked downstairs to eat, after that I made my way upstairs to get ready. My sister, my brother and I walked to school everyday, since it was only a few blocks away. Something didn’t feel right, not only that but the day was especially gloomy. I thought because of the weather, I had felt so down. But it wasn’t that at all. The entire day I walked around as if I was a zombie. I had this tightness in my stomach throughout the day and I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t a cramp, it was more of a feeling you get when something bad is going to happen. Usually, we walked home but my father had picked us up; which, I found unusual since my parents are divorced and I only saw him on the weekends. He said, “Get in the car.” I could tell by his tone something was seriously wrong.

As we got in the car, there was no time to even put on our seatbelts. My father darted out of the parking lot as if he committed a crime. I asked him, “What’s wrong?”. He told me it was my little brother Elix. He was only 16 months at the time what could have possibly happened? But we were on our way to the way hospital. The whole way there I remember crying and praying he broke his arm, or needed stitches or something but what happened was nothing of what I expected. When we finally got there, I felt as if my heart was going to jump out of my chest. And as I paced myself to the 3rd floor, I ran my hand over the chills that were taking over my body and the unbearable shakiness I was left with because of how unaware I was about the situation. While we rushed to the room, I had seen the hospital lights becoming more dim with each step I took. When I went to the room, I saw my mother crying as she walked up to my brother, my sister and I. I knew then and there everything was going to change, and it did. I remember her exact words. She said, “Elix is going to heaven.”

I didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t want to say anything. I collapsed into the nearest chair and felt this unexplainable numbness run throughout my entire body. My mother asked if I would like to see him after I had calmed down, My immediate answer was no. I didn’t want any of this to be real, and I knew if I did see him, it would be a confirmation of what was truly happening, but I walked in the room and I saw him. His entire body was pale and he looked as if he had been sick since the day he was born. I thought to myself, this isn’t my little brother. Yesterday, he looked as healthy and as vibrant as ever. But this was my brother, and this wasn’t some joke, it was all real.

Moments later, a flood of people came in. Family and friends I haven’t seen in years all the sudden here. My mom, sister, brother, step-dad and I all stood by each other as we counted down from ten. When we reached zero, the heart monitor would go into this straight line. At 6:03pm, September 11th, 2008 it was all over. And this was permanent. This was not a temporary change this would be forever. Never would he come back and nothing would be the same.

After about an hour of people hugging us and saying how sorry they were, we retired back home. I don’t really remember much of the car ride home, all I really remember is leaving with a brown teddy bear one of the nurses gave to me. After that, I just remember the day after. I woke up to an even gloomier September day. As I approached the mirror, I noticed my brothers empty room across the hall. I quickly veered my eyes towards the mirror hanging on the wall. I woke up to my eyes bloodshot. I touched them surprised by the swolleness and I didn’t even recognize myself. But then I walked down stairs and saw my grandfather sitting on the couch with my mom and my other two siblings. They were all watching the news. And still, I was unaware of how it all happened. My mother must have read my mind because less than a second later she told us how it all happened.

It was 10 am and my stepdad had just woken up. He forgot he was babysitting my brother and the house was unnaturally quiet. Quickly, he got up and searched the entire house. He woke up his nephew, hoping he was with Elix, but he wasn’t. He decided to check outside, and realized the screen door had been opened. As he walked up to the deck he hoped he wouldn’t find my brother there. But he did. Elix was lying facedown in the pool. My step dad jumped in the pool grabbed him and quickly brought him inside and immediately attempted CPR. His nephew called the police, but by the time they arrived it was all too late. 3 hours, my brother was in that pool. He was only 16 months old and it was a 5 foot deep pool, it was impossible for him to swim. And that was it. My family blamed him for it all. And for 3 weeks they separated my siblings and I from our mom. We were not allowed to be alone with her, or be with her for more than an hour without my father’s permission. This was tough because my mother had always been my rock, and we all needed her the most at that time.

I felt no desire for opening up to anyone. I felt more alone than I ever had in my entire life and not even my family could help me. My mom didn’t want to go to counseling because she was in another state of mind. She tried to stay strong for all of us, but deep down hid her depression and my stepdad isolated himself from everyone and never wanted to speak about what happened. So for months we lived like this. Not even being able to speak without my brother’s name being said and none of us wanted to talk about it.

Then, about a year later when we moved to Franklin Park things looked up. My mother had found out she was pregnant and we all become happier. After all the fights, the crying, and the struggle to rebuild back to a family was hard, we did it. And the sleepless nights were starting to get better, because we all had something to look forward to. And on December, 8th 2010, my little sister was born. Niya was one of the most beautiful babies I had ever laid eyes on. In a way, she was the healer for all the pain and she helped us through the struggle we couldn’t overcome. Surprisingly, the pain still feels the same 5 years later but with the support and help from my family and others, things have gotten better. And I’m more than grateful to have the people I do in my life.