Artwork by Andria LaValley, Grade 12

The Tree
Michelle K. Dunn, Grade 12

I stand tall
with branches and all,
sometimes with leaves
or nothing at all.
I get stared at,
most of the time I stare back.
Sometimes I talk, and my echoes howl with the wind.
People stand next to me,
others don't even notice me,
and others just hug me.
There are ones that love me,
and ones that cut me.
I try to fight back to save myself,
but there I go--
timber!

Thamen's Revenge
Kenneth Collins, Grade 12

The tall dogwood trees were flowering, and the small red petals littered the path. Tightly laced leather boots strode over the hard packed soil. A long cloak flowed behind the man walking. The colors on the cloak seemed to swirl together, and if asked what color the cloak had been, most people would have been able unable to say. The path began to curve ahead, and the cloaked figure quickened his pace. He saw the frame of a burned and smoldering house. Smoke drifted up through the trees from the smoldering ashes. In the grass a few feet away from the blackened house lay a boy. The man walked into the clearing and up to the sleeping boy. He stood over him and the boy awoke with a start. Scrambling backwards the boy started screaming, "No... No... Stay away from me!"

The man stood staring at the boy with a calm expression, then sat down in the grass. The boy began to run away, but stopped when his assailant did not pursue. Turning back, the boy cautiously asked, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I have been traveling for many days, and I am in need of rest. I mean you no harm." replied the man. "Tell me, what has happened here?"

"The Black Eyes," the boy said. "They came before and told us that they had taken control of the land and that we would have to pay them a tax for living here. They wanted bushels and bushels of our crops, but we couldnt grow as much as they wanted and we were already going hungry." The man sat listening intently. "Yesterday, I left to check the game traps in the morning, and when I returned that evening the house was already burned to the ground."

The man's eyes wandered to a discarded weasel carcass left by a tree. "I'm sorry this has happened to you," he said with remorse.

"They burned my family!" the boy burst out, trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes. "What am I going to do?" he said, with his face cupped in his hands.

"I have come to help you," said the man. "My name is OrLow. I am a wizard." The boy looked shocked. "A wizard?" He took a step back, his trust wavering.

"In my tower I have a magical scroll that foretells the future. For this reason I have come to find you," explained the mage. "The scroll showed you to me, and it shows me nothing without a reason for doing so, Thamen," he concluded.

He stretched out his hand and whispered a word of magic. Suddenly, what looked like five small marbles rose up out of his skin and floated in a circle above his palm. These five marbles then burst into flames and spun quickly in a circle. They spun so fast that the marbles appeared to turn into a flaming hoop.

Slowly, the marbles stopped spinning and sank back into the flesh of mages pale hands. Looking Thamen straight in the eyes OrLow said, "You have a very special power within you, Thamen. The scroll has sent me here because you have a chance. You have the chance to learn and do more than you have ever dreamed. I have watched you since birth and was waiting for the proper time to approach you with my proposition, and when I learned of your parents death, I knew that I must act quickly."

Thamen stared at the wizard, not knowing what to think. "You want me to be a wizard?" he said in disbelief. "I wouldn't know the first thing to do."

"I will teach you everything. All you have to do is want to learn," responded OrLow. "You will have immense power if you remain true to your studies. Not just anyone can capture magic. It takes a special talent that is given to you at birth. You have this talent, but you must sculpt it before it can be of any use to you." With this OrLow stopped talking and waited for the confused boy to reply.

After a moment of thought, Thamen stirred. "Yes, I'll do it. I've got nothing else left. I'll do it," he said in a determined tone of voice.
_______________________

Five years later, Thamen stood on the edge of a glade of trees, concealed by the thick branches. For five years he had studied. His goal had been to master his art, magic. He had studied long and hard, and his skill had improved over the seasons. Every task OrLow made him perform, from memorizing spells to sweeping out the animal's quarters, he did exceptionally. He was no longer just an apprentice of OrLow's, but almost an equal. Now, he had come back to reclaim his homelands.

From his vantage point behind the trees, he watched the Black Eyes move back and forth across the stronghold. The Black Eyes were a ruthless band of warriors who knew only how to take what they needed. They were called Black Eyes because of the dark mud they decorated their faces with. They painted their faces with the bog to strike fear into their enemies and also because they believed that their evil god, Raltos, controlled them with the black muck.

The Black Eyes continued with their daily activities while Thamen watched unnoticed. With a whisper of a few magical words, he stepped from the cover of the trees and started walking toward the fort. Thamen had cast a spell of invisibility on himself. He walked to the middle of the yard and spoke more words. To his right a Black Eyes heard his voice, and turned his head toward Thamen. The Black Eye quickly dismissed the sound as the wind as the invisible mage floated to the top of a stone pillar.

This was the moment Thamen had been waiting for. He had worked five long years to become what he was, and it was time to use his knowledge. All of the pain and anguish he had gone through because of these animals would be avenged. Memories of his father working in the fields and of his mother nursing him through a fever ran through his mind.

Thamen concentrated, saying the necessary spell over and over in his mind. He became visible again right before he spoke his fatal spell. All of the Black Eyes turned to stare at the cloaked figure that had suddenly appeared on top of a pillar. Thamen began chanting, "Burning bodies stumble, to stone I remake." Thamen chanted louder and louder, until his voice was heard throughout the stockade.

The air around the Black Eyes shifted and a blue fog began to envelope them. Body after body burst into flames in the courtyard. Flames soared as hair sizzled away and skin bubbled as blood began to boil. Screams rose above Thaman's chanting for a moment, but as the screams intensified a bright flash of white light replaced the fog, and all was silent. Nothing moved in the yard below.

Thaman floated back to the ground and stood for a moment to rest. He had done what he had dreamed of for five years. He had avenged his family and left the proof in the form of a stone graveyard. He coldly surveyed what was left of the Black Eyes. He felt nothing for the stone monstrosities at which he stared. Black Eyes were frozen solid all around him, many with the last grimace of death on their faces. The last ties to his former life were now broken. He was free to move on.

From a pouch underneath his cloak, Thamen pulled a silver tone stick, which he dropped on a stone. No sooner had the tone stick sounded than a gigantic green dragon came soaring over the forest. The sparkling dragon swirled down toward the ground and landed among the stones.

Thamen strode forward and mounted the dragon. He climbed up the armor-like scales and strapped himself into the small wooden spined box. He spoke to the dragon, and the beast leapt into the air, spreading his wings to gain altitude. Thamen had accomplished his first goal as a mage.

He looked down at the lands where he had been raised as he flew just below the clouds, and thought to himself, "Now I am at peace." The young mage shut his eyes and whispered a few words as he sprinkled a pinch of sand behind the dragon. He was setting a warning spell in case anyone ever tried to take over his lands again. This time he could defend himself.



page 1 | page 2 | about exposures and ordering | exposures home page

for info e-mail Deb Freed--dfreed@netonecom.net


copyright 1996 by the individual artists. all rights reserved.
webdesign by leelanau communications