VOLUME 1, ISSUE 1. Fall 2010/Spring 2011. TALE OF ONE CITY is about CHANGE in DALLAS

TALE OF ONE CITY is a literary/arts magazine that invites teens to share their Dallas experiences and community members

to engage in conversation. Grab a seat and join us.

Untitled, Emily I. Highland Park High School

Greetings, reader!As the founders of Tale of One City, we would like to thank you for visiting our site and taking the time to read through this publica-tion.

As we hope shines through in the pieces that appear in the fol-lowing pages, a lot of time and talent went into the making of this magazine. There are those who created it, those who fund-ed it, those who reviewed it, and those who contributed to it. If you would like any more information about the construction and production of Tale of One City, please explore our site at www.taleofonecity.com or drop us a line at taleofonecity@gmail.com. We’re always happy to hear from you.

The collection of work in this magazine represents only a fraction of the submissions received in the competition for the Tale of One City Scholarships. Choosing which pieces to include was difficult; indeed, if we had the time and space, we would have loved to include them all. In the interest of the format, however, we tried to choose only those works that exemplified the goal of our orga-nization—that is, to bring Dallas together and tell the tale of the many different faces of this one great city.

We have attempted to edit the volume with a very light hand, leaving in the spelling errors (and in some cases the profanity) original to the documents. Some of the stories in this collection are amusing, others shocking and heart-wrenching. But all are worth reading. We do advise that younger readers consult with a parent before flipping through.

We hope you enjoy your experience with the magazine that we can’t really call our own anymore—it is the work of our city.

Peace,

Drew Konow and Rebecca Quinn

AGELESS.TIMELESS.MAGICALAN EXCERPT FROM A SHORT STORY

BY JULIA H. / EPISCOPAL SCHOOL OF DALLAS We ran. Tumbling. Bare feet pounding pavement. Winding across our faces, the displaced air pushed us up and down. One street. Then another.

Straight up Concho. Left on Penrose. Right down Delmar.

And then we saw it. Through the darkness of the night. The commonality of our past.

Smack-dab in the middle of the “M-streets”. Stonewall Jackson Elementary. Our childhood.

It was where we made our first friends. Where we had our first “boyfriends”. Where we had our first detention. Where the memories of our imaginary friends still lie.

So much nostalgia surrounded the space. We were there. Such a short time ago. Swinging from monkey bars, somersaulting down slides, breaking fingers and arms, chasing our friends. Growing up.

We hadn’t been back there in years. Middle school descended upon us. And we had quickly gotten caught up in the homework, the boys, and the drama that was being a teenager.

And yet somehow we had stumbled upon our past once again. We were at dif-ferent crossroads in our lives. Fifteen and applying to high school. But there it was.

An eerie glow settled from the streetlamps as we stopped in front of the gate. We looked up the painted ABC sidewalk. The blocks had different pictures on them. Apples. Bears. Cats. Dolls.

Each depicting portraits of our past.

I was instantly transported back. To first grade…

I pulled on the trees at the corner of the playground. Pink flowers danced through the air as I shook them down.

“Julia!” Mr. Hill yelled.

I was sent to time out. “How would you like it if someone pulled on your limbs?” he said. I took the walk of shame and sat on the sidewalk. I plopped down on L. A lion. My neck started to burn as the sun beat down…

RING! Recess was over. I jumped off the lion. My jail-guard for the day…

The cool November air filled our panting lungs making each breath a strug-gle. Condensing our chests. Freezing our throats. We were still at last. And then…

“RUN!” suddenly burst through the air as one of the girls took off sprinting!

We were trying to outrun the lava monsters. We were witches. Trying to charm the tall, uncut grass into parting Red-Sea-style so we could pass safely.

We were no longer fifteen. We were ageless. Timeless. Magical.

And all that we needed was each other.

THE LIGHTS SHINE IN THIS CITYA SONG FOR GUITAR

Can you see the lights? Shining oh so perfectlyCan you see the stars? Smiling back at meCause in this place brings a feeling of embraceA place where I belong, been here alongIt’s a city filled with wondrous things, the bells the chimes the ticks and ringsThe people here have history, each one holds a certain mysteryWhere we are everyone’s a shooting star, making a wish, taking a chanceIt’s a city of romance, where the buildings stand tall, refusing to let us fallThe lights shine in this city tonight

Walking down the street, in a pair of nice new sneaksI see a story unfold before my eyesThere’s a group of students walking byGoing to the art museum nearbyThere’s a man dressed in a suit heading on the bus commuteA child jumping in the train, as if he was in a puddle in the rainTheres a lady in the city park sitting down before she embarksTheres a whole another world bursting alive, you will see when you arriveIt’s a socialculturaleconomic dynamic astronomic place to beDallas is also a city of changeA city unlike yesterday

So its time to pull up my sleeveAnd begin to believeThat I will make a difference in this present dayEven though doing is harder then to sayI will try my best to figure out the unknownIts more then some can say, or so they think they know

Cause my actions will speak way louder than my wordsAnd this hardwork will begin to form the groundworkFor a world of change, different from yesterdayAnd you’ll finally see, what this place means to meDallas is a city of change,indeed its unlike yesterday,full of people like you and me,hoping that one day we’ll see,an even greater place,with an even greater name,I’ll make Dallas everything it can be,because it gave me the chance to see,what a wondrous place to be,forever will the lights shine in this city

JOHNATHAN C.ST. MARK’S SCHOOL OF TEXAS

POSING AT MURALLAUREN HERNANDEZBISHOP DUNNE HIGH SCHOOL

an excerpt from MI TESORO Por lo tanto, para mi mis padres han sido mi razón para seguir, porque solo ellos se han dado cuenta cuando sufro, han estado conmigo y con mis hermanos en las buenas y en las malas, aunque no siempre físicamente pero nunca nos han dejado solos, y sobre todo siempre han dado lo mejor de ellos. Aunque no tienen una perfecta ortografía para escribir, para mi son el mas grande orgullo y mi único y grande tesoro, el que no quisiera que nadie me robara, por que no se que haría sin ellos, y tampoco quisiera compartirlo con nadie porque es un regalo de Dios que nadie mas me va dar; si algún día me faltaran, siempre estaré agradecida con Dios por habérmelos dado como padres y si volviera a nacer los volvería a escoger otra vez, por que dos ángeles como ellos en ningún lugar se encuentran, y yo me siento afortunada de gozar de este privilegio tan grande de tenerlos como padres.

by ALMA M.H. GRADY SPRUCE HIGH SCHOOL

KARMA, Simon N. North Dallas High School.

“It symbolizes that my city is my hood that is falling apart.

The rose symbolizes the love for my city.”

“No, you don’t hang a banana on the wall,”She tells her younger brother.He does not know it does not belong there.Maybe he thought it looked nice there,Proudly displayed like his school art projects.He does not see why we keep bananas in boring fruit bowlsWhen they could be telephones,Or wall hangings,Crescent moons,Or pirate hooks,Or so many other things.But she wants him to grow up,To eat his banana properly,And throw the peel in the trash.

Abbie D. Yavneh Academy of Dallas.

BANANANORTH, SOUTH, EAST OR WEST, LIFE PASSES BY WITHOUT REGRET.CHILLING WITH FRIENDS, HANGING OUT WITH LOVED ONES.GOING THROUGH LIFE WITH NO WORRIES IN SIGHT.OUT OF NO WHERE DOORS START SLAMMING.GANGS START BANGING.PEOPLE DYING.LOVED ONES CRYING.BODIES SIX FEET UNDER.MOTHERS CAN WONDER.WHAT LIFE WAS LIKE FOR THEIR KIDS.

JOSE G.NORTH DALLAS HIGH SCHOOL

***SECOND PRIZE WINNER***

skylineI was born in Dallas, live in Dallas, and will probably die in Dallas (be it from the heat or old age, I’ll never know). When I was little, curiously, it didn’t seem all that big. I mean, I lived in the suburbs and went to the city all the time. Such a friendly and familiar place wasn’t big at all. To my childish fancies, it was My Dallas, My Kingdom, My Home. But as I grew older, grew wiser, grew cautious, the city began to loom over me. It seemed to grow giant and unfriendly, a myriad of street names I did not know, people I’d never seen, and knowledge I’d never even heard of. My Dallas of my childhood was a distant memory, one that seems almost hazy. But one thing that remained constant was the skyline.Everyone knows that distinctive skyline we have, with its fanciful neons and wildly changing outlines. The Reunion Tower, turning once every hour, a testament to the fact that regardless of where you are in the city, another day of your life has just slipped by. The dramatic lines of buildings, each straining to outdo each other in their glassy grandeur. I always took comfort in the fact that the skyline was always there. Unchanging, the only stability in the turbulent transforming overtaking My Dallas. Until I happened to, on the way back from a long trip, glance up from my book, out the window. I’d stayed up almost all night, but that didn’t account for the fact that the skyline, the queenly skyline of My Dallas, was different. It was wrong. I controlled my voice, trying to sound nonchalant. “Dad, are we home? The skyline’s different.”“Yes, we’re home. This is how it looks coming from this direction.”It suddenly fell into place. From every angle, everywhere you could see the skyline, it looked different. In the same Dallas of my youth, another child was looking around, seeing all of Dallas I had missed. They had Their Dallas. And there weren’t just two of us. Every person who had ever seen Dallas, who had glanced at this same skyline had Their Own Dallas. And I suddenly longed to see Their Dallas, and lock the remnants of My Dallas inside of my memories, careful to never breathe a word of it, lest they take My Dallas and make it their own.I have, since that time, seen the skyline from all different parts of Dallas. I’ve stared at the outlines of the phantom buildings, trying to commit it to memory. Every person I meet, I search for a shard of Dallas I’ve never seen. It’s hard, but when I do, that shard becomes part of My New Dallas. It grows larger and larger as I grow older, and I hope for it to be so large, that when I meet someone, I can see that My Dallas and Their Dallas are one and the same. Because when you see the skyline from all an-gles, you know that everyone can appreciate the beauty just as you have.

a story by Erin O. Ursuline Academy of Dallas.

UNTITLED,

Beatriz B.

North Dallas High School

“Ever since I was little, I’ve

witnessed many thing in

my neighborhood that

have changed my life.”

UNTITLED, by Gabriel G. North Dallas High School.

“What inspired me to do this is as I grew older, I noticed that my friends and I became Go’s. (Original gangsters) the boy with the balloon stands for good child that is walking through Dallas (the hood side) while he’s going through the hood, he becomes a gangster. In the end the big bal-loon holding with tattoos is the little boy. Dallas changes you as you get older. I live in a tough and rough area of Dallas. I once was a little boy.”

Dallas my city, Let’s take it to the south side. No sites pretty in my eyes. People thinking it’s cool to mix the new with the old, Tackiness to me it all shows. We ask them to fix these pot holes, But all they do is start and never finish, Like little kids playing and picking over their spinach. AIDS and HIV spreading around within minutes, Everybody’s buying tickets to the concert “ Reality just Listen!” Passing around petitions knowing they’ll never make a difference. What about the children? No one has an answer.People waking up everyday diagnosed with cancer: breast cancer, lung cancer, skin cancer. Man it’s all the same. Watching the hungry children on t.v. is a real shame, Boys walking around with their pants low is real lame, Like picking them up is a real pain. Everyday everybody has another struggle, But the question is... What are you going to do about it? I thought so.

SKYSCRAPER WITH CLOUDS, Mallory T.

Bishop Dunne Catholic High School

DALLAS IS MY CITY Kiera W. Booker T. Washington High School.

mi hogar lleno de fe

I thought

More like hoped

That winter would come much faster this year

Only to get the sense of direction placed by the snow on the pavement

The fog in the air, and I’m starting to visualize your pixilated blue eyes

And black scarf wrapped tightly around your neck like a noose

But not to harm, yourself or anyone else

To hold your body in check

And keep me close

To keep your mind from straying

My sheets are thin, and I miss the warmth of your body

You kept me warm on the summer nights

Flashlight in one hand and my five fingers wrapped around yours

Every movement I made

You made the opposite

Only for both of us to fit into each other perfectly

And I know nothing is set in stone

But winter has that affect on me

The cold makes my body wonder

And linger on thoughts and secrets

That  have only slipped through the sheets

But never pursed my lips to another’s

Letting your secrets or anyone else’s slip my mouth

Winter changes me

And with autumn coming close

That cold in the air

I can feel the difference

I feel it

In your voice, your tone

It’s more pronounced

More orange and yellow

Leaves fall like the feelings over months

Months and days

Days and hours

Hours and seconds

Seconds and Kisses

Kisses that are nothing more but just to satisfy warmth in the body

Warmth in the heart

Only to say something along the lines of

‘I’m passing the time, filling the gaps, with you my dear’

Through cold fire felt nights

Maybe it won’t be the same next time

Maybe it won’t be the same the time after next

But honestly I’m fine with that

Content with whatever the season may bring

And when you told me, you found the flower you gifted me

In your pocket, of the shorts you wore that summer

I smiled and laughed

And knew

That it won’t be this way forever

But forever is too long to begin withKylla A.

Richardson High School

Naci en un lugar calmado y simple pero sobre todo en un lugar lleno de fe. North Dallas es mi hogar,donde e aprendido que cuando se aprovecha lo que la vida te ofrece llegas muy alto, llegas lejos para llegar a Dios.Nadie camina por la vida sin haber pisado en falso muchas veses. Nadie alcanza la meta con un solo intento, ni perfecciona la vida con una sola rectificacion, ni alcanza altura con un solo vuelo.Nadie puede juzgar sin conocer primero su propia debilidad.Nadie siente el amor sin probar sus lagrimas, ni recoge rosas sin sentir sus espinas.Nadie recoge cosechas sin probar muchos sabores, enterrar muchas semillas y abonar mucha tierra.Nadie reconoce la oportunidad hasta que pasa por su lado y la deja ir.Nadie consigue su ideal sin haber pensado muchas vecez que perseguia un imposible.Nadie deja de llegar, cuando se tiene la claridad de un don, el crecimiento de su voluntad, la abundancia de la vida, el poder para realizarse y el impulse de Dios.Nadie deja de llegar cuando de verdad se lo propone.Si sacas todo lo que tienes y estas con Dios.Vas a llegar muy lejos!

Elizabeth C. and Maria M. North Dallas High School

My portrait in the mirror stares back at me, and sometimes I wonder who could I be.Amidst a sea of racial inequality,I used to believe that my beauty burdened me.With pain as deep as the sea,My beauty never lied skin deep.Me with the ebony skin, me with the night’s eyes,Had to learn ways to socially survive.Merging into a vast society,I look in the mirror and wonder who could I be.Some say that I may have lost my identity,But I reply with a touch of wisdom, no this is me.Reaching in and pulling out,I can make it without a doubt.But the real trick is if I could make it outOf the dreams my mind often talks about.On the verge I talk about,On the verge of making it out.Just climb a little closer,Pull a little harder,And maybe, just maybe the line isn’t getting farther.

Asia H. Episcopal School of Dallas

My Life as a Student in Dallas Dallas Texas is all that I have ever known. Dallas is my city, my hometown, and there is no other place on earth that reminds me of my city. I have lived in Dallas for about 14 years .I have stayed in south east Dallas, in an area named Pleasant Grove for about 9 years. My neighborhood is not known as a real nice neighborhood. It is a actu-ally a place where most families are economically challenged, and crime is a problem at times. But I at least have been fortunate enough to stay out of trouble, for the most part, and my parents have always been able to provide for the family. Although my parents and I have had our fair share of disagreements, they have always supported me and kept me focused on school. My recollection of my early school years is vague so I will elucidate from when I remember. From 4th grade is when I became myself. Allot of my actions that year shaped my life to date. From elementary to middle school I became somewhat of a trouble mak-er. All those stupid decisions I made where small and grew to the point where I knew I had to change. High school is when I left all of my mischievous ways behind , because I knew if I failed school I could not be successful in life, and not to mention all the doors a good education could open for me. I have got my act together, and things are going well for me. I got a couple As on my report card, and a few 70s where I need some help, but I am working towards improvement. So that’s where I am at up to date. Now that I am a junior in high school, I have started planning for my future. Just the other day I signed up to take both the SAT and ACT collage entrance exams. I hope to one day enroll in a technical collage to start a career as an automotive technician. I like to think that I am a pretty normal person, but now that you know a little sometu can be the judge. My name is Lazaro Martinez and this is the introduction, my prologue, of my life.

by Lazaro M. from H. Grady Spruce High School

Untitled Hand, Nancy E. Bishop Dunne High School

UNTITLED, by Mikayla F. Bishop Dunne Catholic High School

In Dallas I grew up in South Dallas raised by my grandparents. Also with my aunt Norma and my cousin Marcus in the same house as my grandparents. Also at times my cousin Gustavo would come over and then our uncle Rodrigo would take us to the park and after that he would take us to seven-eleven to buy us Slurpee. I use to sleep over at my grandparents and sometimes I would hear parties, drunk people that would sing to their music, and sometimes they would shoot gun-shots. But all that changed when my grandmother died, she suffered from stomach cancer and that her esophagus closed so she couldn’t eat or drink. I was 4 1/2 years old before my brother was born in 2000. I lived in the same house we do today for 13 years now. That one day we’ll move to a different place. Now that time has passed things have changed since I remembered when I was little. There’s more violence and verbal abuse than back then. Also that there’s more drugs, deaths, crack, gangs, and drunk driving. The way I see it people are abusing or just taking advantage of life or the way how to live their life. Me my life I have seen my whole family has suffered from our family members dying or almost dying. So we pretty have a hard time to get through the emotions. Me, life is like a privilege to be living. Also that for me life is full with dangerous stuff that kills worst than ever back then. I guess that’s what life is supposed to be like.

by Esther P. of Skyline High School

Esth

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Life

My Life as a Student in Dallas

OLD EAST DAL-

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“My piece was inspired by every guy that lives in my hood. The hazardous sign resembles danger and violence, its like wars on the streets. The blue bandanna stands for the gangs on the east side of Dallas and him being forced by society to be a gang member. The blood dripping from his eyes stands for the pain, he doesn’t want to see all the violence going on. The glow behind him stands for him being destined for greatness if he just believes. And I decided to make it all blue to resemble sadness to show how cold the world could be.”

by Amy M. of North Dallas High School

***GRAND PRIZE WINNER***

DALLAS OF LIFEEast Dallas is a gentle place that gives me a warm felling inside of me But once darkness hits and everyone around me sleepsI lay down in my bed wishing daylight would start all over again I can’t sleep! I can’t Dream! Although it feels like I’m living a nightmare Knowing I’m home, thinking I’m safe,But knowing I’m not. It’s why I wish Daylight would start.All I can hear are all these gunshots at night,Car speeding, bumping their stereo with what the teenagers call it “Gangsta music”The next day, I wake up feeling pleased for the morning and daylight that has come, I see The sunshine shining and a breath on my cheek and when the night comes I want it to be daylight because I don’t want to hear the gunshots, and “Gangsta music”.

Natalie M. North Dallas High School

“La luz del hermoso sol me levanta en la mañana Miro el hermoso día por la ventana

El olor de café en mi casita me da energía Así es la vida en el Sur

Veo el barrio chico en donde yo vivo Las personas caminan rápido a la escuela y sus trabajos Corren los niños a la escuela porque están emocionados

Así es la vida en el Sur

Pero por el otro lado las casas son enormes Veo del caro que las calles son más suaves

Todos manejan sus propios coches Así es la vida en el Norte

Llego al mi escuela en mi uniforme y con mi mochila La vida aquí es más calmada Mi escuela es grande y bonita

Así es la vida en el Norte

En le mañana vivo en el Sur Pero en la tarde vivo en el Norte Las dos partes son muy diferentes

Yo vivo en dos mundos en solo un día

dos mundos en un día

VALERIA P.Ursuline Academy of Dallas

Mexicans here Mexicans there; no matter where you go the Mexican race is always there.The Mexican race works hard and tries to excel.They work hard to provide for family and to be someone in life.White people here, white people there, they discriminate against a Mexican.Black people here also try to discriminate against them.Even Mexicans try to discriminate against their own race.Not everyone like each other, but do they really know the reason why?Or do they just do it because that’s the way they were taught?Live gets hard when someone is not liked, but the only way to live life is to prevail.

by Jose G. from North Dallas High School

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I am from Dallas, Texas, born and raised. I am not a so called “thug” or rep of any gang. Still I can probably blow you away with the things that I can do. My academics are off the charts and I am first string in an athletics program. My two little brothers look up to me and want to follow in my footsteps to be a good leader. This is me. I am Jeff.

I go to H. Grady Spruce high school. It is not as bad as everyone assumes it to be. We, the stu-dents, brought the school up from almost closing down to what it is today, almost a complete high school. Since we just got varsity back, our athletics department is beginning to grow in prestige. Everyday, our students and this school are proving people wrong around the city.

People who are not from here and have no idea what life is like in this part of Dallas criticize my school and its students. Many are saying that it is not a good place to be, that people who go here are a bunch of “gangsters” who do not care about getting an education. Criticizers say that I will not be able to succeed because of where I live and the school I attend. But I know it does not mat-ter where you live or where you go to school, you can always make a difference.

I am an “A” student in my class, the class of 2012, the first class that will graduate from H. Grady Spruce after we were almost shut down three years ago. Some of my teachers even say that the work I do is outstanding. I am determined to give 110% on everything I do. Because of my educa-tion and the help of my caring family, friends and teachers, I am growing more and more each day, and I still have a full year left after this to improve. I am determined to go to college and have a successful career in computer engineering while still living around Dallas. Nothing is going to hold me back from the goals I have in the future. The people who criticize me only make me stronger.

This is my life in Dallas. I do not try to be something that I am not. This is me living to the fullest, living life as a Dallas ISD student. I am determined to tackle any obstacle in my way that tries to keep me from succeeding and continue to keep proving people wrong around the world.

Jeffrey R. H. Grady Spruce High School

life in h. grady spruce

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According to the stereotypes, I must be a rich, spoiled, blonde headed, over-tanned, anorexic, Athletic, fashion guru, health freak. I must drive a Lexus, live in a mansion, I don’t know the value of a dollar, and an air-head With a mean streak.

When in reality I’m not rich, my parents would be, except they are not. My mom is a teacher and my dad works in business. I have 3 sisters so that means I’m definitely not spoiled a lot. I’m blonde haired by nature, I can’t help that; I’m not over tanned or anorexic, none the less.

Athletic—it is not in my genes, it never has been, and my family thinks it’s funny. I am however a fashion guru and a health freak. I don’t drive a Lexus, I live in a duplex, I earn my own money, And no, I’m not an airhead with a mean streak.

I live in a place where outsiders gossip about the people that live here. They do it for humor. But they don’t really know what it’s like. They judge. They criticize. They make stereotypes based on false rumors.

I live in a neighborhood that is close to a utopia, but at the same time very far from being such. It’s about 8 square miles and contains 32,000 people altogether. The average household income is 121,000 dollars, which isn’t really that much. And 94 percent of people are white birds of a feather.The place that I live is technically in Dallas but it is its own city. A city within a city and near the center of Dallas’s heart. We have our own school district, police and fire committee.

I go to a school that puts the strict in school district. I don’t mean that they enforce uniforms or obnoxious rules. I mean that academically to be successful you have to restrict,A minimum of 4 to 7 hours a night to study in high school. I live in a place where failure is not an option. Where we are expected to be more successful than our parents and have more knowledge. My school is number 38 in the nation. Not in Dallas, not in Texas, but in the nation. 99 percent of students graduate, 98 percent of those students goes to college.It’s a huge responsibility the students carry in their backpacks and to some it can be a frustration.

I live in a neighborhood where the neighbors that surround me have finished col-lege. They have made something of themselves. Then they have settled down and started families that have much knowledge.

I moved to this part of Dallas when I was in the sixth grade range. Who I was then and who I am now are two completely different people, this is a for sure thing. I would have turned out to be different than the way that Dallas caused me to be rearranged, If I had stayed in Sulphur Springs.

Today, I am a service oriented student and a visionaryWhose next goal in life is to go to college. I want to become a pediatrician and missionary.

Now you know the truth. Really, I’m probably not much different from you. We are children of the same youth.So don’t look at me from a stereotypical view. OU

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The white walls with the white sheets.

Tubes all around the smell of sickness in the air. The Nurses greeting us hello...again.

Needles, tubes and buttons galore.

The loud speaker constantly going off... trauma in triage 3.

Tears are everywhere, the room and people filled with concern.

We all know the routine. We all know the outcome,

but still, on the inside I worry about the future.

What does it hold?

Hospitals are full of memories for me, each level with a story to tell.

Pudding and soda in the fridge, dad in the chair and mom in the bed, hopefully she will come

home soon,hopefully.

The worries are all in my head, my world is to busy to have emotions about such things.

I know she will be alright, I know she will always come home.

Whether its in 5 hours, 5 days or 5 months.

She will always come home.

On the outside everything is ok, but on the inside i’m not sure.

I know what will happen.

I know more than most.

She likes it when you hold her hand.

She will be home soon, for a week of recovery. Until a week later she reeks of hospital smell

from the saline drip.

I know she’ll be fine, I know it.

We have come through so much, so why stop now.

We have our support system and we know she will always come home,

she will have a long life.

by Zoe E. from Yavneh Academy of Dallas .

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Untitled Sculpture, Mallory K.

Gazing out the window, a series of bright lights catch my eye. One after another, they march down the street. The leader slows his marching to a stop, one by one the rest follow behind. Each one is a different color, a different shape, and even more so possesses a different identity. The leader is a bright red corvette, the windows rolled down, and the owner wearing a light pink sweater vest, sporting a pair of Calvin Klein sunglasses. The caboose at the end turns into the lane juxtaposing the red corvette. He is a 1993 rusted green Chevy. The owner is in his late 40’s, wearing a plain white t-shirt, stained with dirt and grass stains; his windows are replaced with duct-tape on one side. When the light switches green, the Chevy stalls. The man hits his wheel angrily. The owner of the corvette glances over, doing a U-turn at the next street. The man in the corvette got out of his car. “Need some help?” He pulled out a jumper from his trunk and hooked up his battery to the battery in the Chevy. As the man got back into the corvette and revved his engine, the Chevy jumped back to life. The man in the Chevy yelled a “Thank you” as he headed on his way. Two individuals living different lives, but mutually understanding. Dallas is a city of culture, a city of the unexpected. Strangers helping one another isn’t an un-common sight in Dallas. The city is bursting full of life. People hurry back and forth on the street, but there are those that sit in the city parks, taking in the surrounding scenery. Dallas is changing, gaining an immense population of multiple cultures. It is a city full of economic resources, complying with the requests of its citizens. Dallas is a city of lights, forever marching forward.

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Johnathan C. St. Mark’s School of Texas

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Part I: BirminghamJessica comes from a mystical landOf Southern propriety and savage hearts.

When I think of Birmingham, I see clips from documentaries I saw in Social StudiesOf White policemen blasting Black demonstrators with fire hoses.To what vicious mind did it occur to convert an agent of salvation into a weapon of oppression?

I see the black and white clips over and over.I see Black people being knocked back by White people with water like they were hit by a truck.I see the Birmingham K-9 Unit, 1964, and wonder how they made those dogs so ornery.I see Bull Connor, jowls shaking, yelling, “I want to see them dogs work!”I see bruises and possible lacerations from being knocked to the ground and wonder if water can break the skin.I see police badges under white Klansmen robes and toddlers in pointed white hoods.It plays over and over in my head in a newsreel up against my skullAnd I see pain and savagery in the hearts of men.

Jessica tells me about forests and old graveyards and adventures in the woods.She says we don’t have trees here and I don’t know what she means.Jessica doesn’t say much else about Alabama and I wonder what secrets the Heart of Dixie holds in its foliage.

Part II: DallasI wonder if people in Birmingham see old footage when they think of Dallas.I wonder if they see JFK’s head exploding over and over again,Onto his wife, bits of skull and skin and brain and hair sprinkling her as she yells,“Oh no!”I wonder if they think, “Dallas killed JFK.”

They put a white X on the street where he died,Perhaps a bit clinical, perhaps a bit holy,But belies the blood on the street that never touched the cement, but lived in everyone’s hearts in a city of killers, of assassins, later assassinated by assassins in the parking garage by a dying men.

Head exploding. Wife screaming. How long did it take them to realize what had happened?Did the people down the street still wait with smiles, unknowing, why the President was late and how late he really was.

There’s blood on our streets too where white Xs lie.

Zoe B. from Greenhill School

For “

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Untitled Skyline by Carolyn O. Ursuline Academy of Dallas

Part I: BirminghamJessica comes from a mystical landOf Southern propriety and savage hearts.

When I think of Birmingham, I see clips from documentaries I saw in Social StudiesOf White policemen blasting Black demonstrators with fire hoses.To what vicious mind did it occur to convert an agent of salvation into a weapon of oppression?

I see the black and white clips over and over.I see Black people being knocked back by White people with water like they were hit by a truck.I see the Birmingham K-9 Unit, 1964, and wonder how they made those dogs so ornery.I see Bull Connor, jowls shaking, yelling, “I want to see them dogs work!”I see bruises and possible lacerations from being knocked to the ground and wonder if water can break the skin.I see police badges under white Klansmen robes and toddlers in pointed white hoods.It plays over and over in my head in a newsreel up against my skullAnd I see pain and savagery in the hearts of men.

Jessica tells me about forests and old graveyards and adventures in the woods.She says we don’t have trees here and I don’t know what she means.Jessica doesn’t say much else about Alabama and I wonder what secrets the Heart of Dixie holds in its foliage.

Part II: DallasI wonder if people in Birmingham see old footage when they think of Dallas.I wonder if they see JFK’s head exploding over and over again,Onto his wife, bits of skull and skin and brain and hair sprinkling her as she yells,“Oh no!”I wonder if they think, “Dallas killed JFK.”

They put a white X on the street where he died,Perhaps a bit clinical, perhaps a bit holy,But belies the blood on the street that never touched the cement, but lived in everyone’s hearts in a city of killers, of assassins, later assassinated by assassins in the parking garage by a dying men.

Head exploding. Wife screaming. How long did it take them to realize what had happened?Did the people down the street still wait with smiles, unknowing, why the President was late and how late he really was.

There’s blood on our streets too where white Xs lie.

Zoe B. from Greenhill School

Dallas es mi ciudadEs muy grande

Veo centros comerciales, restaurantes, y centros de deporteConciertos, museos y bibliotecas

Personas – jóvenes y viejasMujeres, hombres, y niños

Diferentes culturas, grupos étnicos y razasAsí es como veo a DallasPero no todos ven esto

Esta es una ciudad con límites y divisiones entre grupos de personasPero todas ellas son partes de la ciudad

¿Qué pasaría si vencemos aquellas divisiones?¿Si nos abrimos a las personas alrededor nuestro?

Nosotros tenemos una ciudad excelenteDonde aprendemos el uno del otro

Sería una ciudad mejor, con un futuro aún más brillante

by Emiton H. from Greenhill School

tale of one city: poema

An easy way out can change one’s life forever

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Life in the city is not easy.Some try to find the easy way out.

People try to make money, by selling that dope.Some just try to do something just to have an excuse to leave the comfort of their homes.

Young girls hook up with gangsters and they spread their legs.Cherries are popped and babies are made.

Not knowing what to do the so called gangsters leave and get another girl, without knowing the babies name.

They get a little bit of fame not by family, but by friends.They are a supposedly considered a pimp.

Life gets hard for the young teenage mothers.I bet that it kind of makes them wonder, why they did that in the first place.

by Jose G. of North Dallas High School

UNDERSTANDDown the bottle,

Take the pill,Do what you do

To make things less real

Grab the needle, Take the dive

Go ahead, Get left behind.

Hit the bottom Keep on runningTry to get away,

Hear the shots calling

Make it so you can erase All the things

You thought you knew, Just so you know your saving face

Hide behind the music, Use your laughter as a mask,

Just know I would try to lose it Before the rest of you is gone

I’ll lift you when you need itYou’re not in the wrong, I swear it

I’ll sing with you when you feel it… Just give me time to understand

Cathedral of Guadalupe by Daymond G . Bishop Dunne Catholic High School

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RECOVERYI’m on the road to recovery

And I get mad at everyone I see‘Cause they’re so much better off then me;

They ain’t on no road to recovery

I’m only takin’ one a dayWith a happiness that fades awayAnd a lovely shade of purple-grey

For a shadow by my eyes

I’m on the road to recovery,All the adults looming over me

Say ‘a kid with broken specs can’t seeOr walk the road to recovery’

But I’m slippin’ out the back way,Tryin’ to find my own way,One way, the road’s way,

Away, away, from my demise

I’m on the road to recovery;That’s what this is, hopefully;

My eyes are too scared to see—Is this the road to recovery?

by Sara G. of Yavneh Academy of Dallas Joel C. of North Dallas High School

Hardships

As I watched my father fall to the ground his head banging against the wall behind him as he crashes to the floor; my eyes began to fill with a clear water-like liquid that glides down my cheeks and finally stains my loose fit tee. Realizing that this is not the time or place to cry I sprinted towards my parent’s wooden nightstand only a few feet away from where my dad laid motionless. I began asking my dad if he was okay at the same moment as I dialed 911 not wanting to waste any time. But when I called out to my father I got no response. I began to cry once more as the dispatcher interrupts my tears and asks “what’s the situation?” As I fought back my tears I let her know what I had just witnessed and gave her my address. Within minutes I could hear the sirens of the ambulance. Red and blue lights flashed majestically through my window. The paramedics raced upstairs then bum rushed through my house running towards my parents’ door. They opened the door and knelt down next to my unconscious father. At the sight of my father the paramedics quickened their pace. Four of the paramedics, two at his head and two at his feet lifted my 200 pound father from the floor and onto the stretcher. Then left the same way they came; down my dark street with their sirens blasting and their red and blue lights fading into the black of the night. My father was kept in the hospital for eight months because of the trauma he experienced that night. He suffered from a stroke. He also suffered from bleeding within his skull from when he banged his head against the wall. While my father laid up in a hospital bed fighting for his life; my mom was now the only employed parent trying to provide for all her four children, pay all the bills, and still make time to go see her sickened husband. My mom was doing a really good job initially but then the stress started to take a toll on her. She began complaining of back problems because of all the overtime she put in at work. My mom’s struggle with the bill saddened me so much that I decided to take up a job while still attending school, maintaining a GPA of 3.4, and playing on the Varsity basketball team at my school. I was hired as a courtesy clerk at Kroger my junior year which worked out well because my mom was able to finally pay her bills on time. She was also able to have some spending money for all my brothers and sister and herself. But even though I was making good money for the family I kept thinking when am I ever going to be able to set up a saving account for college? But I knew If I tried will be back where we started late fees , no electricity, and no means of transportation. So I decided not to think about it. I’m Graduating this year and I plan to go to college right after high school but I have no money. I may be penniless now, but what I’ve gained from watching my family go through a rollercoaster of events to myself stepping up out of my mother’s protective wings and into the real world; and getting a job is that no matter how hard I get hit by a door being slammed in my face I need to just keep moving forward because on the other side of all the destruction and sadness is where a wide open door, sits waiting for me.

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by Joy A. of Richardson HS

Una

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risa Desde los nopales y palmas,

hasta la lluvia con el frío.Amigos y familia,nuevos y gustos.Mi atmósfera síes nueva,nuestra vida sí es nueva,pero el momento que oscurece el sol,hasta que pacen los carros sobre mi ventana,nosotros sonreímos.Con amor y esperanzaSobre nuestros ojos,Una nueva vida.Una nueva forma de viviry una fe cambiado con diversiónmi vida esta mas unida.Dentre la familia sobre mi.Una vida nuevaY una nueva sonrisa.

Faith M.Yavneh Academyof Dallas

Diversity is presentAmazing streets and buildingsLasting many centuriesLeaving many memoriesAlways in your heartSurrounded by a friends and family

SOFIA V. URSULINE ACADEMY OF DALLAS

Gabriell H. of Bishop Dunne HS

Mi vida en Dallas, TX Solo tengo un ano de vivir aquí en Dallas. Todo es diferente para mí porque fue un cambio de mi vida totalmente. Mi escuela, mis amigos, y todo lo demás. Aquí eh en-contrado gente de todo el mundo con diferentes costumbres y gustos muy diferentes. Si me gusta vivir un poco aquí pero me gustaría regresarme a México porque extraño mucho a mi familia aunque estoy aquí con mi mama todavía me gustaría regresarme pero al final de todo pienso y se que aquí tengo muchas oportunidades para mi futuro lo primero que esta en mi mente ahora y es mi primera meta aprender ingles. Después de este primer ano de mi vida aquí aun sigo trabajando esperando que me vaya mejor. La única diferencia mas grande que eh tenido desde que llegue y empecé a conocer Dallas es que la escuela es muy diferente a las escuelas de México porque aquí tienes muchos grandes beneficios como por ejemplo la transportación una muy importante la seguridad. Vivo en East Dallas a mi me gusta vivir ahí porque esta muy tranquilo y hay un parque que me recuerda México así que aquí estoy disfrutando una parte de mi vida en Dallas, Tx.

Yanire M. of North Dallas High School

WHY I LOVE DALLAS I love all the bright lights that light up the dark nightAll the cars and people everywhereFull of all the things and people that I loveThis is my home and always will be I love it hereI could never imagine living anywhere else but hereIt is where I have lived my whole life, Dallas is my homeOther people who do not live here do not understandThis city is full of amazing opportunitiesThe fair in the fall with all the food you can imagineAll the things in this wonderful city are what I loveI love being in a place with so many people All the big, shiny downtown buildingsThe people who welcome you with open armsThe diverse culture and types of foodI love the skyline at nightI love Dallas because things here really are bigger

Sabrina M. of Ursuline Academy of Dallas

Big D, Sweet HomeDallas, the city of which I was born,

A mix of culture, art, and life not known,From modern art to streets never forlorn,

I proudly call this home from which I was born.

Our Cowboys rooted for by all the land,From Mockingbird, to Oak Cliff, and the rest,

Everyone out to give a helping hand,Our caring city strives to be the best.

The city beams with goods on every street,Fashion, lights, and balls held for great causes,

With a chain of giving that can’t be beat,Dallas deserves a crowd full of applauses.

With Big Tex watching over everyone,Big D welcomes all to join in its fun!

Monica M.of Ursuline Academy of Dallas

THE WAY IT IS IN THE CITY.Dallas is a nice and wonderful place.I have been here since I was two years old, I’m 16 now; the way that I have experi-enced Dallas is not all the same, some things have changed.I meet new people, I make lots of friends. I live life to the full extent.Dallas has a lot of opportunities even though it is diverse.You have same races and same cultures throughout the area, but they way they live is all but the same.Some areas are quiet, some areas are loud.The rowdy areas are the sounds of guns blasting other gang members or even inno-cent people that get trapped in the middle of the crossfire.Living big and dieing young.Families are separated some are even lost.Never going to see them again, gone for ever, memories are forever, but forever is until when?It seems like it has been a lifetime even when only 10 minutes have passed by.Cries here and cries there, mothers with shattered hearts because they lost their loved one. Nothing much to do but live life and not die young.

Jose G. of North Dallas HS

Driving to SchoolSchool is a far away place for me

I live in Plano, not Dallas, you see.Through the rain, through the stormAnd little traffic is not the norm.

5 days a week, all through the yearI go to school, with much good cheer.

Everyday,I see the same,

Kroger billboard;Never gets lame.

Did I do my homework today?Well, if I didn’t I’ll have to pay.The things I see outside the windowAre too many to say all in one go.

Still so sleepy, but ready for the day,With all my worries kept at bay.And in the back of my mom’s car

We travel to school, over the tar.

by Victor Z.of St. Mark’s School of Texas

FRIENDby JESSICA M. of BISHOP DUNNE HS

MY STORYSome people are blessed with decent lives, and some aren’t. I unfortunately have a troubled life. My mom abandoned me before the age of one, & my grandpar-ents adopted me. My father was in & out of the picture because he was in & out of the penitentiary. My grandparents sent me to private school till I went to 7th grade. I had to go to public school because my parents couldn’t afford private school any more. In 7th grade I started to act up by fighting, running away, and skipping school. I started to act up because I was going through a lot and I didn’t know how to handle it. I maintained to keep my grades up even though I was acting up. When I started the 8th grade I changed thanks to some of my teachers who stuck by me no matter what. I always passed my classes, & actually went to class. Then I messed up by get-ting pregnant. I regret doing what I did, but I had to get over it to make things right. Yes I am another teen pregnancy, but I am going to succeed & give my child a good life. I want to go to Baylor University, & be a pediatric nurse. I’m hoping to get a schol-arship for college. I’m trying my best to do good for my unborn child & to make my parents proud. Sometimes I feel like I can’t do it, but I have people who support me & I know as long as I stay strong I can do it. This is my life story. It might not be the best, but I will do something with myself. I owe a big thanks to my teachers: Mr. Armando Banchs, Mr. Ryan Rodriguez, & Mrs. Denise Tucker. They always had my back & always helped me out. They showed me I could do better. So even though things get hard I know as long as I stay strong I will succeed.

SABRINA M. of W.H. ADAMSON HS

She gawks down at the squalid stray, His dirty clothes, his unkind face, She flinches from his dead, iced gaze, And struts to find a warmer place.

The gray day echoes insect cries, In yellow weeds he wonders why That woman couldn’t spare a dime, That squalid stray is thrown to die.

Her footsteps in the dusty road, Marks her trail of hate and scorn, She clings to her expensive vest, And looks away from squalor’s nest.

Equal minds reflect her acts, And fester on the thing they lack, Together they create a place, To segregate a different face.

An archaic peers with dismay, At the starving squalid stray, His lips break out into a frown, He takes out money and bends down. The bright day brings in hidden bliss, The surprised stray accepts kindness, Throughout his life he craved for sun, And now the shining ray has come.

Equal minds reflect his acts, A heated home in cold, cruel packs, Together they create a place, To make a town share all one face.

Two different people, just one world, I grew up in a place ice cold, But everywhere I’m able to see, Good’s warm blanket over me.

RITHIKO T. EPISCOPAL SCHOOL OF DALLAS

BLACK AND WHITEMEAGAN F. Bishop Dunne HS

ANTONIO A. NORTH DALLAS HIGH

TALE OF MY CITYA FREESTYLE RAP

T he tall tale of my city is to show no pity, all we have in our pockets is hundreds and fifties, if you don’t have no money your only option is to go out and get it, if

you have fear in your heart then there’s no way that you livin, get our money from grinding and pimpin and never get caught slipping, cuz if they find you their gonna shoot you with there weapon so that’s the reason why I always pack my Smith and Wesson, so just sit down and learn this lesson, I’m just telling you how we live in Dal-

las Texas, so don’t come with the plexin cuz I’m a leave you resting in piss, some of us sell dimes and nicks others done moved up to pushing weight or got locked

away, some of my homies you see doing graffiti on freeways, North Dallas were we stay what we represent all day, you see people wearing blue or red but it don’t

matter cuz in Texas we’re all about chasing that bread.

ANDREW J. NORTH DALLAS HIGH

dallas and my porch I swing on the front porch, waiting and calm. The air is thick with heat and the chirps of cicadas. Its stagnant air like this that makes the swing go slower, causing me to push harder through the sound and temperature barriers native to Dallas. I think about my future: college, job, marriage, death. The swing creaks eerily, but I find the sound is a comforting overtone to the soporific static of the cicadas. Everything is still, except for me. I’m waiting. I’m going through the motions: backward, forward, backward, forward. My hands loosely grip the chains on the swing while my legs mechanically stretch and retract to aid the swoop and mo-mentum of the swing. Even though I am moving, I feel rooted. I make no progress. I go forward, let my head fall back to face the sky and straighten my legs. I’m close, I could leap off, but before I can decide if it’s safe, the chains shift under my hands and I feel the pull back to earth, dragging me relentlessly down. Down I go, down, back into the arms of security, rhythm, and nostalgia. Someday, however, someday, I will make the leap and abandon my swing. Rather than allowing myself to be safely pulled back, I’ll courageously fly out. The shifting chains will rattle in alarm. The seat of my swing will lurch up with me as if to try to chase after. I’ll see my family on the porch. They will stretch out their arms, try-ing to keep me safe. My friends, still swinging, will look on with awe and sadness at my moving on. I’ll miss them. They were the reason I stayed on the porch, swinging. However, whenever I jump, I’ll trust Dallas to protect my friends and my memories. So I dream on my swing of making the leap out of this back and forth, up and down. Of course I might fall, tumble, scrape myself up, but I like to believe once I finally move, the wind and sound and life around me will move too and carry me to the places I want to go.

Scout G.of Lakehill Preparatory School

WATERFALL STATUEby KYLE C. of Bishop

Dunne HS

Masks- everybody wears them, some better than others. People wear masks to hide their true identity either because they are afraid of what peo-ple will think of them or because they cannot trust others. Some wear a mask for protection, some just for fun. There are many reasons for me living in “The Grove” as a high school student, where anything and everything can ruin your reputation, to wear a mask. Here, wearing a mask is not a joke. Instead, wearing a mask must be taken seriously because I must wear a mask in order to survive.

I wear a mask because of something that happened nine months ago -the day my best friend passed away. Since that day I have watched my life change drastically both physically and mentally from behind my mask. Physically, I could not bring myself to go and hang out with friends because when I went out to the movies or parties, it reminded me that my best friend and I used to do these things together. Mentally, I felt lonely even though I was often surrounded by a crowd. Still no one understands me ,and trust me, it does not feel better when people say “I feel your pain” or “everything’s going to be okay.” Their pity makes you feel opposite because most people will never go through a simi-lar situation.

Today I want to take my mask off and open up about a part of my life that no one really knows. I met Jerson Archaga, better known as J.R., in Pre-K at Julius Dorsey Elementary. Our teacher, Mr.Bazurto, made us sit together in the round tables commonly found in grade school. Our friendship took off like it was tied to a rocket. On field trips, at assemblies, we always sat together, talked, and made fun of people, anything to keep us from being bored. . Even out side of school, J.R. and I were practically raised together. My mom would watch both of us from the time we got out of school until around 7:30- the time his mom came home from work. Everyday of our seventh grade year at E.B Comstock, J.R. and I had the same routine: ride the bus together, lunch, and af-ter school, go to my house, have a little snack, and then head to the boxing gym called Dallas P.A.L.

[CONT’D ON NEXT PAGE.....]

my mask

Finally, Freshmen year at Spruce High- the best year of memories -we still hung around each other, and although J.R. stayed in boxing and I joined the soccer team, we remained as close as ever. However, Sophomore year quickly became the worst year of my life the day J.R. got shot on the front steps of his house. I will never forget that day-Thursday, January 14, 2010. As my name was called out over all of the security radios, I walked to the attendance office only to be greeted by my mother, her eyes full of tears. The next several hours flew by in a blur. Mom says “we are going to Baylor.” The first thing that comes to mind is, “What’s wrong?” Before I can ask the question, mom says “Jerson got shot.” I never thought it was anything serious. We stop by the house and I grab my phone. I find six missed calls from Jerson’s mom and call her back. Hearing here voice brings tears to my eyes. She tells me the same thing my mother told me the only difference is she adds the words “Jerson is not going to make it.” I go to the hospital. Andrea, Jerson’s mom points at a hall way and says “He’s in there.” As I walk to the door I hear a doctor say “Excuse me, you cannot go in there.” I push my way inside only to find the worst thing imaginable, J.R. Lying in the hospital bed on a life support machine. Jerson has been shot in the head; the bullet went in a little behind his ear. I see his head swollen and wrapped in a clear bandage. J.R.’s eyes are a purple color. I grab his hand with a knot in my throat, I cannot help crying and thinking how am I going to overcome this? I remember a saying: “What does not kill you only makes you stronger.”

J.R.’s death is the reason I wear a mask. I feel heavyhearted but to survive this high school, I play the part of the “funny guy.” Remember never to judge a book by its cover, because you never know what a person goes through in life. God deals us our so-called “cards” in life, so I guess I am going to play them and gamble, hoping I make the right decision to be someone in this life time, even if that someone wears a mask. Time is ticking and you can never tell when it will stop. We must fight every moment, but even with my mask and my tragedy, I am determined to survive and make my lost friend proud. Rest in peace Jerson.

MICHAEL I.GRADY SPRUCE HIGH SCHOOL

my mask

UNTITLED, by MADISON M.of URSULINE ACADEMY OF DALLAS

TALE OF ONE CITY founders Rebecca Quinn and Drew Konow, October 2010

VISIT OUR WEBSITE ATwww.taleofoneci ty.com

FOR NEWS, UPDATES, AND NEW ISSUES

CITY LIGHTSby JAKE L.

of BOOKER T. WASHINGTON HIGH SCHOOL