Photo #4

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Week of April 9:  Click here to READ THIS WEEK'S SELECTIONS or click Photo #4, Famous and General Writing to read all recent submissions. To view or download the pages below as pdf files, click the newspaper's name in the attachments below. See the Weekly Photo gallery.

To view last week's Newspaper Series index, click here.

 “The Modern Candlestick Girl”

There she lay,

thrown out,

in the rain.

Shivering from cold,

Shaking in fear,

she huddles,

 in the rain.

Cold and lonely,

umbrella by her side,

she lay down,

for another sleep.

in the rain.

Hungry,

for love and food,

she looks up praying,

but sees nothing,

for she is,

in the rain.

She cries for hope,

for family

for someone to take her,

out of the rain.

She remembers,

how things came to be,

this way.

How a simple argument,

made things,

this way.

How her mom,

yelled at her for being,

this way.

She had yelled back,

and stomped away,

and things became,

this way.

Now there she was,

lying in the rain,

in an alley, Read more »

Full of despair, the girl fell to the ground.
With her umbrella, shining red in the dusk,
She dried her tears, and did what she must.
She let him go, pushed him out of her mind,
She had to move on, though she felt blind.
She was frightened, confused, and very uncertain,
But with her heart as a guide, she will never get lost.
She’ll put her li fe back together, red as a rose.

Red Umbrella

My name is Stella.

The nights are cold,

and I am getting old.

I was told,

one day there would be no old.

I was told,

that when I was old,

all the nights would be cold, cold, cold.

I tell you this Red Umbrella,

I am lonely and I'm not a fella!

She had gone too far.
Again she didn’t want to wake up to the sun in her face.
That night,
The night before,
The night she didn’t wake up again.
She had gone out,
Out into the rain.
Trailing that Blood-red umbrella behind her.
Her black tights running at all of her curves.
The black dress,
That torn dress she had found.
She wore her hair slicked back,
Really tight.
The slippery ground.
The Rain pattered on the ground.
“Drip.. drip.. drip..”
Her footsteps,
The sound of her ballerina flats slapping the ground as she ran,
She ran far.
The umbrella trailing behind her,
That blood-red umbrella.
She had gone out,
Out into the rain.
She was careless.
She took off her tights.
And ran farther.
“Drip... drip..”
Her ballerina flats worn out,
Letting rain water tickle her toes.
She knew that what she did was wrong,
That she never wanted to live again.
She was done.
She didn’t want to see her house,
Her clothes,
The sun.
She didn’t want to hear the world.
She wanted to be done.
Memories clouding her head.
Tears dripping one by one down her face.
“Drip... drip”
She couldn’t handle this anymore.
Her black dress tore as she ran past an old, rusty, red bike,
Leaving her cold at the limbs.
That man,
He saw her,
Running.
He knew what she was doing.
But he did not stop her,
He understood her pain.
That horrid pain that ran down her body like wet paint,
Staining her forever.
He wanted to stop her,
But he could not.
For she was done.
She did not want to live. Read more »

She needs that red umbrella
To catch the tears,
that are falling rapidly, from her,
green, green eyes.
She needs that red umbrella,
to trek through the storm.
The storm of her troubled life.
She needs that red umbrella.
She needs that red umbrella to hold onto.
Because it is the only thing to comfort her.
In her world of pain, sadness, and hurt.
Her life is like a lost ship at sea,
floating along the mostly - calm currents,
and then getting caught up in storms.
These storms of her life start out slow,
pat, pat, pat,
against that needed red umbrella.
But soon, the water is falling thick and fast.
And soon that needed red umbrella is useless.
The only thing that can help her,
becomes useless.
The thunder is clapping, and lightning is flashing, waves crash over the boat,
drenching her in salt water,
either from the waves or her tears,
it does not matter.
It may take minutes, or hours or, even days
before this storm is over.
But once it is gone,
all she can do is wait,
wait for the next storm,
with that needed red umbrella,
to catch those rapidly falling tears.

Her soul is blank.
Her heart is dead.
Despair tap dances across
her consciousness,
each step adding another
crack on her façade.
Happiness bleeds out the cracks,
creating a mask of optimisum.

Existence is just a drizzle.
Life clouds out happiness,
Life clouds out the sun.
Life becomes darker,
Finding light becomes harder.
She stays in her room trying
to stay out of the rain.

No one sees the cracks in her façade.
Just a pretty paint job over a dark
pealing undercoat.
That’s what depression is.
It is the smile when inside she is breaking.
It is living when inside she wants to die.
It is getting up when she wants nothing more
then to hide from the world.
It is her life.

As she was walking down
the old block.
It began to rain,
a sultry rain.
Where the summer heat
mixes with the moisture.
To create
a mysterious fog.
A curious fog.
She hesitated to pull out the red
umbrella.
Because she loved the rain so.
The way its droplets,
tiny diamonds,
would stick to her eyelashes
and make her make-up
run down
her face.
The way the air
smelled,
like clean,
even in the big city.
The way, if it pours hard enough,
the buildings seem
to wash away
leaving the
mind to wander.
She hesitated,
but she had important places to be
and people to see
and miles to go
and roads to travel.
She pushed away her urge
to stop,
on the sidewalk,
and let the buildings wash
away,
and the drops,
touch her face.
Instead she
took the
old umbrella
out of her bag
and opened it for the world to
see.
She walked farther
down blocks and blocks,
streets and streets,
miles and miles.
He gave her that
umbrella, told her it
was red so he
could always spot
her, out of a crowd,
because she was special,
he told her.
She spent years asking herself,
if she was so special,
why didn’t he stay?
If she was one of a kind,
why did he leave her?
Alone,
with a red umbrella.
And a bucket
of pain.
She came to a point
where she,
just lay on the sidewalk,
with her umbrella.
She let the rain wash over her,
wash all the color out of her,
wash the pain away,
wash the color out of the world, Read more »

I slipped my feet into my coal-black boots and ran to the door. I looked outside. It was raining, so I grabbed an umbrella. A red umbrella. The doorknob turned in my hands freely, releasing me from the cage.
I hung the umbrella low over my face, wishing that I could be invisible to everyone.

“If only I can get there in time.” I hurried down the drive and past my neighbors houses. Feeling their eyes watching me, being afraid of me. It was a little cool with only a black dress and tights on because of the freezing rain. It was a little hard to pay attention to anything with the  heavy burden resting on my shoulders.

“Her life lies in my hands. Why did this happen to me?” I couldn’t help but ask myself. “Always me.”

I suddenly became aware of a heavy footfall behind me. I felt my stomach drop to the ground, my mind spin in circles, and my heart skip a beat. I could tell they were onto me. Why do they have to watch everything I do?

"I have to save her from them no matter what," I thought. I stopped by a store window front and looked in the glass at my reflection. Sure enough, behind me there was one man dressed in complete black, head to toe. Although in this town everything and body is in black. Then I noticed something. A red umbrella. I was the only one with a red umbrella. A bright fish trapped in a sea of black.
          “This stupid town is all in black!” I whispered harshly. “Why did I have to grab my red umbrella?” Read more »

her memories
too painful
a strain
of endless years of hope
anger
of tears
her icy fire within
burning
the coals yet to flicker out
she waits
blinded in rage
yet she knows
she must go
she takes her red umbrella
the only part from long ago
her memories
too painful
she lies down on the cold, damp sidewalk
and lets the tears pour out

She walks in the rain.
Water pours down on her like bullets on her back.
Litter on the street soaks with water.
The wet cement smells like sorrow.
Her shoes soak and rub her tired feet sore.
The flooded street sloshes and pushes her around.
Just fighting to stand her energy is drained.
Wind whips up her dress, biting her ears and slapping her nose.
Her hair mats, sopping wet.
Her makeup runs.
Her black dress, stained by the rain.
Her umbrella does little to shelter her.
Her heart holds no warmth.
Her body cold as ice.
The world closes in.
Black and grays everywhere.
Nowhere to go.
She does find one good thing about walking in the rain though,
No one can tell that she’s crying.

I live in a world of black and white
A world without color
I live in a world where everything is the same
There are no surprises
Day after day, same thing
I live in a world where everyone is nice
Not very nice just a little nice
I live in a world where everyone is mean
Not very mean just a little mean
I live in a world where every one is the same
Everything around us is the same
The word difference has no meaning
Because nothing is different
Except for one thing
My umbrella
My umbrella is not black nor white
It is red
A fun, bright, happy red
A red that you can see from miles away
I live in a world where color isn’t safe
I need to protect this color, so it stays my own
I keep this little bit of color with me at all times
I can’t risk leaving it behind
I live in a world where the only color is for me

Cover yourself.
Hide  from the fears coloring the sky with blacks and dark grays.They fill 
the sky threatening you, adding tears to your eyes, blurring your
vision.
Hide from your future, burning your skin with pressure. Shield your eyes and refuse to see your life tomorrow, today is enough.
Hide  from nature, the land beyond you, diseases reddening your skin with 
force. Coughing up blood until your soul is completely gone.
Hide  from the wars, the destroyers and the pain inside you. They make it
our  problem, they force their issues on us. They make life useless.
Cover yourself.
Hide from your destiny, your chilling fate.
Hide  from your family, they tell you what to do. They hold you back like vines, or barbed wire, an invisible pain within you.
Hide from  your town, the alleys filled with black cats and drugs. They’re everywhere. You can’t trust anyone.
Hide from your country, stay away from its problems. Don’t get involved, don’t try to fight back.
Hide from your school. Sucking up your life, never letting you go. The few days you will have left for yourself.
Cover yourself.
Hide
From your fear.
From your future.
From nature.
From wars.
From your destiny.
From your family.
From your town.
From your school.
From yourself.
Because life is hiding.
You hide from everything, and no one believes you because they hide too.
You realize...
There isn’t a word to stop the fear.
There isn’t a book to stop the fear.
And no one can tell you.
You only have yourself.
And you never stop covering yourself.
The invisible force holding you back can never be broken.
So you cover yourself.

I was left alone...

In a place where no one could find me,

I was hoping to find someone I love,

Just like in the story of Romeo and Juliet.

The only thing I had left,

Was my umbrella,

My red umbrella.

Lying down with me, on the floor,

While I was dreaming about having a family,

Living happily-ever-after.

I dream of colors,

It is not just black and white I see,

It is the color of a rainbow...

That goes where it belongs.

And I?

Just lying there...

Left alone in my pretty black dress.

When I dream of colors, I do the things I want.

Not like Romeo and Juliet,

Letting their parents keep them apart.

What I want is my dream to come true.

It might be impossible, but it might be possible.

I don't like to be left here alone.

In this little world.

Trapped.

The world around her is dark and gray
It hasn't always been that way
But for now, it will remain that way
Sometimes she sleeps, for hours, not knowing what to do
There is nothing to do
When she's sad, it brings her down
She can't escape the dullness and she can't escape the world
She has stopped believing.

When the world is like this
When it seems as though nothing can fix her feeling of depression
She takes out her umbrella
Her meaningless umbrella, only meant to keep her dry
The one splash of color the world has left
A bright cherry red
A bright sign of hope.
It brings her back.

All of a sudden, the saddness goes away
All of those sad thoughts and feelings, vanish
She starts to remember the good times
The happy times
Those memories of smiles, laughs, and family
She remembers when it wasn't raining
When she didn't need hope, because she had it
When she didn't need memories, because she was making them
When the sun shined bright
When flowers grew and  birds chirped.

She takes out her splash of color and splash of hope,
When the world around her is dark and gray.

When it rains,
Water pours down like a bucket,
dumped upside-down
Feelings poured from a faucet
Only held back
By a
small,
red,
umbrella.
This umbrella,
it holds back those feelings,
keeps them inside,
but when that
umbrella turns inside out,
by a thought,
a feeling,
a sad time remembered,
you could have stopped what happened,
but, you didn’t.
When you think,
those feelings,
flow.
From the umbrella,
crumpling,
falling to the floor.
But,
that
small,
red,
umbrella,
picks itself back up again.
Along with your emotions,
scooping them off the floor,
where they lay,
scattered.
It’s a whirlwind,
a tornado,
a hurricane,
of feelings.
They’re all
stored,
bottled up inside,
until the bottle uncaps,
and your umbrella turns inside out,
tumbling down the rainy street.
but unless that happens,
your emotions,
feelings,
are kept there,
in that umbrella.
In that small,
red,
umbrella.
That
sturdy-despite-it’s-small-size
umbrella of emotions.
For when it rains,
feelings pour.

Miss G's recommended edits:

Umbrella Read more »

In the rain,
She is in the rain.
She has given up.
She is never going back.
That place has too many bad memories.
That place reminds her of the bad old days.
That place is where she grew up.
It reminds her of her mom.
It reminds her of her dad.
It reminds her of all the bad times.
Now, she sits here,
with her umbrella.
Abandoned,
like a kid left in the rain.
She’s not a kid anymore though.
She’s grown up now.
She has to care for herself.
Now, she can’t despair.
Now, she can’t give up.
Because, she has to survive.
So, she must pick herself up,
and walk on.
In the rain.

They are all gone... but where?
There is nothing here
You look around...
nothing but the red umbrella
The only thing that keeps you                                                    
warm, safe, and home inside
You sit down look around and once again
nothing but the red umbrella
Sitting there
alone, sad, and hopeless
The only thing to keep you alive is
the red umbrella
But still you are sitting there wondering
Where have they all gone? Where?

As the story unfolds

Her family is tortured, killed, inprisoned

To save her life, 14 year old Lucia Alvarez

Is sent unaccompanied from Cuba

And ends up in Nebraska

In a book 'The Red Umbrella"

We've got you covered

With many types of care

Insurance plans available

For your family needs

That's what they say

At the Travellers

We're here to assist

With all kinds of support

Bridging the gaps

In your desperate time of need

For single moms and widows

We're the Red Umbrella

I was 86 when I died

But I danced and I danced

With the Royal Ballet

My most famous portrayal

Was that of Alain

Who loved his red umbrella

Dressed for fun in a Rave Club

A woman went out alone in the night

Hoping to be the man of her dreams

Leaving alone, to drunk to stand

She crumples to the ground

With her red umbrell in hand

From Hunter's Field

With over 200 others

Carrying a red umbrella

I walk in the drizzly rain

Listening to great jazz

And marching with a twist

It's so much more

Than to just entertain

I'm proud to support

The Dumaine Street Gang

NOLA sure has the best jazz rockers

Teaching the public once again

It's not what you think

"They" are not to blame

Debunking stereotypical myths

Educating others, can really be a pain

Singing out on North Claiborne

Our rally ended at Congo Square

I'm still holding high a red umbrella

So research can make some gains

So tired I feel from the long march

I collapse onto the sidewalk

Still holding my red umbrella

I have HIV, my name is Jane.

     It was an accident, I swear. A simple mistake refashioned into something that’s destroyed my life. He got me drunk on wine coolers, though luckily I remembered to use protection. It didn’t work. How am I going to go through with this? He’s gone. Probably 100,000 miles away; a stowaway on a freight train headed south. They’ve kicked me out. I’m a disgrace to my family’s name. What’s going to happen to me?

    There’s no way I’m going to get my life back. I had everything: I was our team’s star track runner, president of the Perfect Attendance Club, kept straight A’s, and had the nicest guy in school as my boyfriend (or so I thought). All the sorrow and sadness floating inside me explode out into the atmosphere. Slowly, the sky darkens as it begins to pour. Tears stream down my cheeks while I sulk down to the dirty sidewalk. Maybe I’ll lay here until I die. Somebody kill me. I need a friend, somebody to hold me and convince me that it’s all going to be ok. Too bad I never had any of those.

    The gloomy sky fades away so the sun curiously peeks out from the edge of a cloud. Teeth chattering, I grasp my cherry red umbrella in my hand and stand up. After I brush myself off, I take a step forward: a step into a new direction, a new life worth living. This baby inside me is going to be beautiful, and I’ll go to my grave swearing that he or she wasn’t a mistake. I’ll prove them wrong. The muddy puddles soak my brand-new designer shoes, but I continue bravely on the path of life.

We were walking back from a night on the town Hanging with friends and running around It was raining a little But it was only a drizzle We didn’t worry We weren’t in a hurry He bought me a new white umbrella I thought he was a pretty nice fella He offered to drive me home I said no, it wasn’t that long And so I walked away Lost in my thoughts of what I'd do the next day As I rounded the corner of Dishes and Glass A distracted driver decided to step on the gas When he hit me it felt like id been shot But he sped off without another thought I lay there bleeding on the ground I couldn’t breathe, I thought that I would drown As I was lying there, almost dead My body was turning my umbrella red

Why am I here?

What has happened to this world?

Despair was the norm, so I clung to color,

Where my life disappointed me,

I embraced the beauty of the canvas that Earth is. 

Now, color gone, nothing is left to keep me going.

The umbrella is horrid, but I cannot escape it, 

its red glow reminding me of the love I have lost,

the compassion that my being never sees.

I have nothing in this field,

and by having nothing, I have something; be it nothing.

In all my lowest of lows, I find satisfaction in the absence of what could be. 

The shell, keeps the rain from soaking my skin,

but in doing so, it surrounds me in the familiar feeling

of loss, lack, and absence. 

The red, brings pain, but I welcome it,

rather feeling hurt, than nothing at all.

What does that tell you?

Smooth cool stone

A fallen shield

The crimson color

Of a broken bleeding heart

Heat and tears

Stain the stone

Blinded by the light

Of horrifying revelation

It wasn’t raining when Baby fell, it
was only fear of the rain that kept
a little splash of color in her black and white world.
Baby didn’t mean to do it but
She’d been falling for a long time
And now it was all bruised knees and bloody hands and that
Was too real,
And it hurt.

Baby just wanted to
Keep her black and white world, with
The color seeping in
But that was going, if the rains came
She would have to feel it on her skin
And that was
Too real, and it would
Hurt.

On the day she turned four she smiled
When she unwrapped the red umbrella.
It was shiny and new and it was all hers
It was the only one of its kind
It would keep her safe and away from rain
And she’d have it every day
Because her daddy told her to keep it close
Just in case it rained.

On her first day of kindergarten
She carried her umbrella to the bus stop,
Just in case it rained.
But it didn't rain until her day was done,
And the boys had pulled her pigtails
And the girls had laughed
When she colored "wrong",
But she put up her umbrella
And the drops of rain spilled off the sides
Falling down around her and pooling at her feet.
She went home to her daddy and smiled
And told him it had rained.

On the night of her first date
When she suspected rain,
She set her umbrella in his car
Just in case,
And she waved goodbye to her dad
Who she knew was watching
Because the curtains moved,
But there was no rain,
Only movies and dinner and a kiss goodnight
And a look from her dad
That she could never understand
When she walked through the door
Umbrella hanging, unused, by her side.

On the day she left home
The sky was blue
And her car was packed with boxes to fill her room.
She said her goodbyes
And was backing out of the driveway
When her dad ran to her
Waving something in his hand.
He reached through the window
And set the umbrella on the seat beside her
Saying, “Just in case it rains.” Read more »

"Life's useless", she thought

Like it has been for the past few days

Everything was perfect before then

She'd wake up, and get dressed in the morning

She would do her best to try to impress him,

no matter what was going wrong in life

that part of her life was going right,

and she always had him to fall back onto.

Between the glances and innocent smiles, 

and long hours of talk, she fell.

But for some reason he decided to break her heart.

Her heart continues to break, because she sees his new girl everyday.

"Where is he now?", she wonders

probably making the most out of life

Maybe sitting outside, eating dinner,

or watching his favorite TV show.

But hopefully thinking the same thing I am.

Hopefully missing me.

Wondering if someday i'll be in his future.

But now all that can cross her mind is

"What if"

And those "what if's" drive her crazy.

What if i'm with him again in the future

What if he never loved me

What if he has someone better

At this point, life seems harsh

Unreal;

Unsatisfying.

All she can tell herself is that someday someone will love her

but for now,

All she can think is, "Lucky her".

The rain falls,

drip by drip.

Their sacs of water try to penetrate the umbrella,

but it is useless.

The woman is carefree, dancing endlessly.

Her feet hit the puddles forcing a burst of water to enter

the air, some sprinkling her tights.

She twirls.

Her dress inflates like a hot air balloon taking off.

Do these nights have to end? There's no stress to be given and no sadness

to be taken, just life to be lived.

Can't everything be as simple as this? The woman just enjoys the rain that creates a rhythm on the umbrella, letting her body move.

She runs as fast as she can,

her hair whipping her face.

The darkness embraces her.

Only rain is visible.

Her home looms in the distance.

She knows this moment isn't going to last forever,

as all good things eventually come to an end.

As she enters the door, fatigue over comes her.

She collapses onto the floor, her umbrella sprawling out in front of her.

Her night is over

but never to be forgetten.

Only the pitter patter of rain is left to be heard,

as it taps the tin roof,

above her head.

Lost, lonely, wet, and cold.

How did she get here? Nobody knows.

Rain pours from the open sky and drips off her umbrella.

It runs down her neck as she shivers in the weather.

"Why?" she asks, "Why did he go?"

Nobody answers. Nobody knows.

She's drenched from head to toe and lost one of her shoes.

She's curled up in a ball with trembling, tucked-in knees.

Rain runs down her face, in a violent and relentless fashion.

But wait, is it rain, or tears begging for compassion?

"Why?" she asks, "Why did he go?"

Nobody answers. Nobody knows.

A little while prior, only about an hour,

She walked with him in the park, where they picked and smelled some flowers.

But now he's gone, and there's no one to keep her warm,

just she and her red umbrella, caught in a summer storm.

"Why?" she asks, "Why did he go?"

Nobody answers. Nobody knows.

She never thought it would end the way it did.
Her eyes red with tears,
her heart pounding in confusion.
She lay  frozen on the floor.
Broken and hurt.
She’s at the bottom, with no where to go,
so she just lays there.
Wanting to be forgotten but longing to be remembered.

But who’s to say it’s the end?
Her red umbrella points her in the right direction.
Who’s to say she won’t get back up again and fight?
Fight harder than she ever has before.
Her whole life,
is laying shattered around her on the floor
but her legs, they’re still strong
and buried deep she still has the determination.
She can walk again.
She will walk again.
She’ll get strong
and slowly she’ll build up a wall,
impossible to break down.
She’ll work hard
she’ll surpass all limitations.
And you,
you’ll never know you were her motivation.
‘Cause when she reaches the top, she’ll have forgotten your name.