the creativity pool at dulaney high

prose

Summer Shows

Summer Shows

Thumbs snapping on the other side of my walls and above my ceiling; the pitter-patter vibrating beneath my feet. Music. Heading home from Springdale Swim Club. It’s mid July. My skin emanates a distinctive chlorine smell. Flip-flop, flip-flop as I walk down the side walk […]

Butter Fingers MC. Slips-a-Lot

Butter Fingers MC. Slips-a-Lot

Let me be the first person to officially tell you: I am a bumbling idiot. It’s true! Seriously. I don’t think I ever learned proper motor functions with my hands. Or feet. Perhaps even both at the same time. Sometimes I think I don’t use […]

Survivor’s Guilt

Survivor’s Guilt

I woke to the sound of my mother choking on her own tears. It was a fleeting cry of pain; the tepid sun had barely made its ascent over the snow laden hills of my neighborhood when I found out that Charlotte had been murdered. […]

What I Mean When I Say “I Hate School”

What I Mean When I Say “I Hate School”

When I was a child, my father instilled my passion for learning. He taught me to question everything that crosses my path: how does this one occurrence, something as minute as a petty conflict in school, fit in the grand puzzle of life? I was—and […]

Chip On My Shoulder

Chip On My Shoulder

Yes, I eat potato chips with ketchup. Problem? Usually, there is one. And I haven’t the slightest clue why. Do you people know what potato chips are made of? Do you? Doesn’t seem like it. Because if I even include potato chips and ketchup in […]