Page 60 - The Muse 2019-20 Issue

“We’re almost there,” they said. I couldn’t swim anymore, though. I slowly sank to the floor and relaxed, and with that, I blacked out and didn’t wake up for a while.
I awoke with a gasp. I wasn’t underwater anymore. It was bright, and the sun was in my face. I heard the waves crashing and I jolted up. I was on the beach. It was a beautiful day. I felt the hot, golden brown sand under my hands and felt tears well up in my eyes.
“It was my fault,” I said out loud. “I should’ve never left him! Now he’s gone and I can’t get him back. He’s gone...” my voice trailed off into a symphony of tears, sobs, and yells.
“Let it all out,” I heard Leo say as he patted my shoulder.
I stood up and began to kick and yell and cry until I was so tired, I had to stop and rest. I sat down under a large green palm tree, catching my breath and hiccupping. My cries slowly ceased. He’s gone, I thought again. But this time, I thought about it in a new light. My brother would have hated to see me sad. He didn’t like it. I should keep going on with my life as normally as possible for him. I should forgive, but not forget. Adjusting the light blue bracelet on my wrist that he had given me, I breathed in, stood up, and walked away into the horizon, with Leo and Fosfero guiding me home.
My Painting, My Boat
by Alexia Canto
8th Grade
Blue Ribbon
Here I was meticulously scanning every inch of the dome, making sure that each and every panel was sealed, and that none of the plexiglass was loose. Beyond the glass, on the outside, there were the beauties of nature - fish swarming around, seaweed bouncing off coral, and the small grains of sand waiting still. Inside the dome there were the beauties of Vincent Van Gogh, Leonardo de Vinci, and Claude Monet. Yet, all I cared about was that there were no leaks entering the dome. I pressed the “on” button, as I did every morning, and was pleased to find the glowing “Open for tours - 9 am-10 pm,” beam with LED lights greeting happy connoisseurs of the fine arts every morning. Looking around one last time, watching the inhabitants of the deep blue sea, I noticed today’s potential art buyers heading my way through the dry dock tunnel which connected to the submarine.
“Welcome to the Galleria Aquatica,” I said as the group of ten made their way into the main gallery.
“Amazing place,” said one of the guests. “It’s overwhelming,” said a lady with
short blond hair.
“This might be better than the Louvre,” a man in a tuxedo said.
As I heard these amazing comments, a man in a tuxedo started walking towards me. “Hello, are you Roy Martin, the manager of Galleria Aquatica?” the man asked. “Hi, yes I am,” I replied.
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Mateo Balestra, Grade 8