The literary arts publication of Benilde-St. Margaret's School

Apotheosis

Sunday in Brooklyn

Peri Warren, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

It was a Sunday in Brooklyn. The fall leaves crinkled under our white Supergas as we strutted down Clinton Avenue. A crisp wind swept through the borough, and the sun luminesced over the Brooklyn Bridge. Crimson apples beat down...

Join the Club, BSM

Saghar (Saige) Fehresti, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

Private schools standardize uniforms to set a tone in the community. Providence Academy, Totino Grace High School, DeLaSalle High School, Cretin-Durham Hall, all well-noted Catholic schools in the metro mandate uniforms to accomplish...

The Great Hall

Natalie Chevalier, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

Taking a deep breath, I walked hesitantly through the already opened doors of the intimidating Great Hall. The other side seemed to be miles and miles away. The huge grey floor had strange, colorful markings on it that I wasn’t...

Dear Parents & Teenagers

Meghan Ortizcazarin, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

Dear Parents & Teenagers, Want to know why your teenagers are rebelling? Or, why your parents don’t understand literally (in your best teenage girl voice) anything? Right around the age of 12 or 13 teens reach a point ...

The Question Every Senior Dreads

Meghan Ortizcazarin, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

“So, do you know where you want to go to college yet?” This is the first question I’m asked once the words, “I’m a senior in high school” escape my mouth. Senior year is meant to be the peak of high school; in a world...

Andrew Norman, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

A cold bead of sweat streaks down my forehead heading towards my eye, I know it will sting but don’t have the energy to care. I focus on the constant rhythm that can be found in the white noise of nature, the crickets, cicadas,...

Stokley Williams: My Idol and Friend

Austin Robertson, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

Meandering down the jail-like, obnoxiously yellow halls of Providence Academy, I heard the ring of my phone in my pocket. I wondered who could be on the other end of the mysterious number. Somewhat worried that it would be a Jahova’s...

Moving

Ella Hurley, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

Freshman year ended, thankfully. I had gotten through my first year of high school without any major issues. I was going into summer with the mindset that it would be the best one yet—I was with my best friends forever, at the...

[Home]

Saghar (Saige) Fehresti, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

As the plane’s wheels hit the ground, my heart begins to beat faster and faster. The adrenaline rushes within me. The excitement shows, glowing on my face. I can hardly sit still. I snatch my carry-on from beneath the seat,...

THE AMERICAN EXPERIENCE, THROUGH THE EYES OF AN INTERNATIONAL STUDENT

Khoa Ho, '15

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

I came to the States on a bright, late December day in 2012 as a fresh, young, pale child with a mind full of curiosities, a heart full of youthful idealisms, and a belly full of horrible plane food. Boy do I remember that day!...

The Eye of the Storm

Abigail Gage, '18

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. I prefer to think the eyes are the windows to the storm. My dad’s eyes are green and murky with hidden meaning behind each streak of brown. The waters flow silently and secretly,...

I See All

Abigail Gage, '18

April 2, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

I see the clouds slowly wilt and rework themselves into a rich, deep, smoke filled color. I see men being awaken in the night and drawn out of their beds, not to fight the monsters beneath them, but to fight the monsters in...

Persian Version

Saghar (Saige) Fehresti, '15

April 1, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

“So where are you from?” “Persia!” “Wait, is Persia a country?” “Technically it’s modern day Iran.” Awkward pause because what is probably going through their head is either A. back off, she’s definitely...

Nopeming Sanatorium

Austin Robertson, '15

March 31, 2015

Filed under Prose 2015

Barely able to keep my eyes open, I barreled down the freeway toward Duluth. “You all good, Austin? Do you need someone else to drive?” my girlfriend said. “I’m good. Didn’t get much sleep last night. This place...