Aerie: Emerge

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Letter From the Editor

Dear Reader,

This year’s staff is proud to present Aerie: Emerge. As a third-year staffer, I have seen our magazine go from all online, to hopefully-back-in-print, to back this year in full force. Our community, Fairmont, and our magazine are all emerging from the depths of Covid-19. Along with our idea of coming back better and brighter than before, we are printing our magazine in color for the first time ever!

“Coming Back to Life” came to us originally as a submission, but the staff as a whole immediately saw its potential as a cover for this year’s magazine. We thought it perfectly represented the idea of growth and the beauty of reemergence from the past 2 years that we were trying to capture. Many pieces in this year’s magazine are examples of students working through difficulties in life (Covid or otherwise) and emerging stronger because of them.

This year’s magazine would not be possible without our amazing staff. The passion and life that were brought into room 236 every day was unlike any staff I’ve had the pleasure of working with in the past. Thank you to Anna for keeping our lives organized and functional and to Maggie for taking on the role of webmaster with elegance and ease.

Thank you to Mrs. Bruzzese for directing such a lively staff and guiding us to make the magazine better than ever. Working with you has been a delight and I am grateful to you for being such a wonderful mentor.

Hope you enjoy this year’s edition,

Mia Howard

Letter From the Advisor

Dear Aerie Staff,

The web team has been hounding me to write this letter, and my English students would laugh to know that I put it off until the last minute. It wasn't simple procrastination but rather uncertainty of the words to express my feelings about this year's staff and process.

Emerge is my 22nd magazine as Aerie advisor. Thinking back on those 22 different staffs, some years' stand out more than others. Certainly, some staffs were more hard-working, some less imaginative. Others were more talented or less close-knit. But rare was the staff who came together, worked hard, found solutions to problems and were as fun-loving as you all. Mia and I felt good about this group from the beginning, and I am lucky that our first impressions were accurate.

People sometimes question my choice of a career working with teenagers (I think the general public is a little intimidated by you guys), but if they could meet this year's staff, they would see why I love my job. (OK, so they still might be a little scared of some of you, Megan? Addi?, but after getting to actually KNOW you...) Examining you individually, it shouldn't have worked as well as it did; you are all such different 'types' of students. But your traits of kindness, respect and open-mindedness allowed you to create a cohesive group and a beautiful magazine.

This was a great year for Aerie -- one of the best. Yours is the first ever full-color Aerie (I still can't believe you talked me into spending that money!). You kept the website and e-magazine going and looking great. And, the concept, content and book are indicative of your hard work and diligence. Most important, though, are the memories, friendships and experiences you gained being a part of this staff.

You started this year as 13 distinct individuals but have Emerged as one of the finest Aerie groups in 22 years. How fortunate I am to have been a part of it.


Thank You!


Ms. Juliet Monbeck -For arranging and hosting the Aerie submission clinic.

Mr. Jared Parker -For making sure our artists are properly showcased AND for not losing it even after repeated emails and visits.

Ms. Jessica Stickel -For giving us unlimited access to room 121, even during yearbook distribution. And for much needed InDesign help.

The Firebird Art and English departments -For promoting Aerie and soliciting submissions.

Fairmont students -For sharing your creativity with us. You guys rock!


Aerie shows the power of words. Within this publication, you will find the silliness, anger, passion, joy, sorrow, and most importantly, the reality of Fairmont students. The emotions expressed in Aerie are not intended to reflect the views of Fairmont High School or the Aerie staff. They are simply intended to move you, our readers, and to help you see the world through a different lens. The structure within these works is as they were submitted to us.

Some of the pieces may contain triggering subjects. These pieces are not intended to harm.

If you or someone you know is struggling, please direct them to these lines:

Crisis Hotline: Text HOME to 741741

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Authors & Artists in Order of Appearance

Jessica Adams

the lovers divine., Emma Pickett

Mina Inskeep

Black Eyeshadow Pan, Hayden Sprance

Floating Dreams, Muntadher Hazaa

A Thousand Bits and Pieces, Dalton Gebele

The Silent Killer, Kaia Williams

'Farewell', The Guilty Poet

Forgotten Beach, Reagan Daley

Eliana Reed

Evergreen Ice Drops, Lillee Vest

Drip drop, Katherine Brandt

Together We Fly, Eli Sherwood

Rain, Abby Hurwitz

Rain, Bridget Sexton

Outer Steam, Muntadher Hazaa

Why are My, Chloe Parries


Abigail Beach Knox Perkins

Joey Takach

QYURRYUS, Jalinca Basaluncas

35mm film around fairmont, Thomas Lange

Wish upon a Star, Sarah Allen

Rainbow, Bridget Sexton

Krislyn Singletary

Jessica Adams


the lovers divine.

Emma Pickett

man so pure in disposition,

won’t you like to dance?

man who makes the moon weep,

won’t you give me a chance?

man who walks among anemones,

won’t you feed my trance?

i am born of honeyed war,

and i blanket the sky with doves.

i am perfect poppies on a pedastal,

and i promise i can be your aphrodite.

lady so sweet in alabaster silk,

won’t you hold me long?

lady with eyes of incense,

won’t you warble me a little song?

lady so arrogant in her kiss,

won’t you prove i belong?

i am born of tears,

and i roll deep in a generous green glade.

i am born of heartache,

and i promise i can be your adonis.

Mina Inskeep

Digital Art

Black Eyeshadow Pan

Hayden Sprance

Imprints form valleys

and hills of neverending charcoal

I cake between the ridges of fingerprints

And identify those who use me with a finger

Well loved,

I mark where I am left in dust

No amount cleaner may remove my indelible trace

Defined by

Creativity and removable plastic surgery

I sloth onto the faces of teenage girls

Who discard their naked face

Those who appeal to people they’ve never met before

But strive to mimic

The fine line between love and disregard

Story for Floating Dreams

The character randomly finds a helmet in her room, puts it on and the character gets the view of the universe.

Floating Dreams

Muntadher Hazaa

Digital Art

A Thousand Bits and Pieces

Dalton Gebele

Digital Art

The Silent Killer

Kaia Williams

The silent killer

Lurks and waits to pounce

Only subtle signs of its presence appear

People assume they're just moody, sad, maybe angry

It's much deeper

An avalanche in the making

Until one day


Then they start to worry

And only then spread awareness

Far too late


The Guilty Poet

TW: Mentions of suicide

I want to drown my troubles, in bath tub bubbles.

Because There's nothing left for me.

Besides a few people that can get me through the day.

Often make me feel alright, and okay.

But by the end of the night, I'm never really fine.

I take my pill that numbs all of my thoughts and makes my body completely still.

Lie there hoping for all my sickness to be healed.

Nothing seems to feel real.

I want to rip my heart apart, like paper.

Crumble it up.

Everything must be done before I'm gone.

I have to make sure that none of the lines have been crossed.

If they are then I have to untangle them or I'll be lost.

Maybe it's time for me to go.

Hope is to turn into somebody, that I don't even know.

I don't want to hurt anyone no more.

I'll have to be the person that leaves a knock at the door.

Just unanswered, and dismissed.

It'll be my emotions after I end this.

At the bottom, but I'm flying to the top.

Straight to heaven.

Letting my emotions rock.

Can feel the temperature drop.

I'm ready for the final stage.

It's time to give my voice away.

In my mind brought only to do its job, by fading away.

Wiping out anything that tries to stay.

Including myself, bidding off all my trauma.

Getting rid of all the drama.

Releasing all the pain.

No more innocent splashes of paint.

No more vigorousness.

No more long-lasting nonsense.

They call me anonymous.

Because there's nothing about me that vividly sticks out.

My name isn't even my own, I was named after an old man that is broke.

Instead of calling me by the name you've always known.

You can call me no name.

My existence won't be remembered.

My words, faults, flaws won't even be measured.

My human isn't even worth being evaluated.

It took a lot of motivation, just to be apart of this development.

Suppose it can be considered as the final statement.

An attribution to somebody who never made it.

A graveyard built just to place fallen angels.

A crematorium for those who couldn't reach up out of the flames.

For those who have been taught to believe.

And decided to hold blame.

Happiness is the word of the century.

Carried out by someone who had some.

'By someone who has loved and experienced true joy.

From someone learned how to block out the noise.

Who kept their head above the water even though their body was numb.

Being a lonely person growing up

has made me understand the world around me.

My whole childhood has been brought up by the sadness.

I've seen some-things that will never be able to escape my brain.

If I had a genie, I wouldn't wish it on anybody.

If I had the power to,

I would get rid of the violence.

Stop someone from getting bullied.

Stop someone from dying.

But it's hard to change it.

Knowing my fate.

Conversations with pain.

Acknowledging the strain.

Letting go of the past.

Finding a calm place to relax.

Studying upon the mass.

Adding up the numbers across the planet.

About 4.9 billion have witnessed it,

7.8 billion have had and dealt with it,

33.5 million heard about it.

Unfortunately, nobody has gotten rid of it.

There's no cure in any of the medicines.

There's no relief in the therapy sessions.

There's no escape.

At some point in your life, you're going to open your eyes.

Going to be able to see,

and comprehend all the dangerous things.

Forgotten Beach

Reagan Daley


Eliana Reed

Digital Art

Evergreen Ice Drops

Lillee Vest


Drip Drop

Katherine Brandt

Drip drop

Will this rain ever stop?

A barrage of words

Defining what I should be,

But none of them are truly me.

Drip drop

The flood gates open,

Showing me stripped

And that I am broken

Drip drop

The rain drops sting

Trapped in a box,

So that I cannot sing

Drip drop

This rain will never stop

I cannot face the societal suppression

That will undoubtedly lead to my regression

Drip drop

A miraculous storm

Brings in pain that could never be warned

Drip drop

The thunder roars

My voice cries out

But I know I will never soar

Drip drop

The storm clouds part

As I look around, I spot

A colorful work of art

A reminder to me

And to all of my kin

That we are not lonely

In this storm we find ourselves in.

Together We Fly

Eli Sherwood

Together We Fly

When you get a new coach

When nothing seems to make sense

When the future of the program seems to have no hope

Together We Fly

When the new year comes

When drills and concepts seem to make more sense

When everyone understands the execution of plays

Together We Fly

When we take on the newest season

When we start off with a huge win streak, plus a win over Alter

When we rank fourth in the state

Together We Fly

When we get our first loss

When adversity sets in the entire program

When we have to play even better than before

Together We Fly

When we come back and win the next game

When we come back and win the next game after that

When we regain our momentum

Together We Fly

When we have people step up as leaders

When we come together as a TEAM

When we play for the guys we play with

Together We Fly

When we lose again to our rival

When we lose again to a tough opponent

When we face our biggest test of the year

Together We Fly

When we get the big win

When we end off our great regular season with a win

When we get the confidence to take on the tournament

Together We Fly

When we win our first tournament game

When we win the second tournament game

When we win the third tournament game

Together We Fly

When we read the scouting report for next game

When we give all we have in practice

When we click as a team

Together We Fly

When we are getting ready for the first district final game in twenty-seven years

When we can imagine bringing home the trophy

When we celebrate as a team

Together We Fly

When the new season starts

When we prepare to be great once again

When we go undefeated for the year

Together We Fly

When we leave our younger guys to lead the team

When we observe the success over the next twenty years

When our program finally brings home the State Championship

Together We Fly

When we leave the program

When we grow up and go our separate ways

When we look back at our legacy on the program

Together We Fly

Image courtesy of Eli Sherwood


Abby Hurwitz

Whistling like a bird, the wind grew louder. I started to see the cry of the clouds but oddly, I wasn't scared. Too stunned to move, I layed in the poking green and let the splashing drops hit my face like a cold awakening. As the sky roared, I realized the tiny specks of water on my blouse became steep. Rain is admirable really. As frightening and provoking as it is, there is such a power rushed over your body with shivers as the breeze hits your skin. Even the cold gloom has a warmth and ability to bring a feeling like a fitful gleam. In all reality, even the allure of darkness cant overcome the purest affection.

Carousel imageCarousel imageCarousel imageCarousel image


Bridget Sexton


Outer Steam

Muntadher Hazaa

Digital Art

Why Are My

Chloe Parries

Why is it my color you see first

As if the color of my skin is so blinding…

Why is my hair so exotic

Racking your fingers through my curls

Without asking

While you say How soft it is…

Why am i forced to choose a side




One MUST be better

One MORE important

Why are my opinions wrong

Black Lives Matter…..


All Lives Matter

Why are we





Why are we so different

Why are we less

Think before you segregate

For my color isn't blinding but beautiful


Emma Pickett

i can’t find a drop of sense in how often i find myself enamored with the likeness of you. i often wonder where my dignity has disappeared; you see, every little thing makes me think of you. the warmth of peppermint tea boiling in a kettle, the splendor of watching tiny droplets of rain race down a window, and the aroma of my most beloved candle. of all the beautifully domestic things in the world, to rest your coconut-sweet embrace would be Heaven.

Abigail Beach Knox Perkins


Joey Takach

It might be for a while

Or just a short time

But I’m always happy

When your hand is holding mine


Jalinca Basaluncas


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35mm Film around Fairmont

Thomas Lange


Wish upon a Star

Sarah Allen

She drew her hand carefully across the smooth blue surface. It glowed with electricity and it made her hand tingle, but whether it was from the board or her own adrenaline, she wasn’t sure.


She immediately tugged her hand away, holding it innocently behind her back. “Yes Ma’am?”

“I can’t leave you alone for a single second, can I?” Lux’s superior shooed her away from the board. The fingerprints stood out like a candle in the dark against the otherwise flawless glass.

“I didn’t do anything, I was just looking!” Lux defended, “Even if I had, what would it matter? The pod is already taking the plasma.”

Her superior waved her hand half an inch above her glass, slow enough for it to register who she was. A holographic display appeared, projected and monitored by motion sensors.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t mess it up.” The superior focused on a display that showed what she and Lux couldn’t bear seeing with the naked eye.

A star, more than a hundred miles out and connected to the pod with nothing more than a pristine white tube, featureless apart from the segments that allowed it to bend.

Through the screen, they could see their compact machines unfolding themselves and beginning the second stage of collection. It was a dangerous job, bringing the raw star power out of the universe, but Earth was no longer content with the confines of nuclear power.

Lux grunted. They had been traveling for days—at least, it felt like days. The empty black void was maddening, she could understand why some collectors never returned.

They weren’t permitted to harvest stars too close to Earth, thus they had landed at this one. Alpha-706, it was labeled. A humble little thing, perfect for collecting.

“What’s any of it matter?” Lux complained, “They’re working to make a pod for the sun, that’ll bring all the energy we’ll ever need.”

“That’s years out, you know that.” Her superior returned without pause.

Lux muttered something under her breath. The slick white uniform was getting on her nerves, it didn’t let her move. She took the display from her superior and turned the image to the storage module instead. Barely 3% full.

“I don’t get why you want to do this, I only signed up because I couldn;t find another job.” She folded her arms over her chest.

Lux’s superior opened her mouth to give another lecture, but stopped when she saw the module drop to 2%.

“What? I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen?” Lux frowned.

“It isn’t.” Her superior quickly changed back to the display of the star. The machines, built to withstand ungodly heat, were melting before their eyes. Stray bits of metal floated out into the void.

The superior cursed and put both hands firmly on the glowing blue panel a second before their pod started flashing red.

Home base!” The superior shouted to the open line of communication. “17-10, the bots melted! The plasma is leaking, We need some words!”

“Remain calm.” An unbothered voice flickered through the line. “Close the module and send it away. Then come back for your reassignment.”

The superior motioned quickly for Lux to hold down the flashing board to keep open communication. Something that made her so excited just a few minutes ago was now and act driven by mortal terror.

Lux pressed hard on the board to keep the lone open. Her superior frantically flipped through the display, finally reaching the module controls. She pressed RELEASE with all her might. It was rewarded by a blunt error chime.

“It’s not releasing!” She shouted to the responder.

Lux expected to hear more instruction, but there was only an abrupt cut-off after a few seconds.

What did you do?!” Her superior demanded. She pressed her hands desperately against the board.

“Nothing! They cut it off!” Lux exclaimed.

Her superior suddenly grew still. She mumbled something that Lux couldn’t hear over the blaring overhead.

“. . . We’re a lost cause.” Her voice had a serene calmness to it. “We’re going to die.” She slowly took a step back, taking Lux’s hands.

“I wanted to go to space.” The lights shut off. Lux’s superior smiled and brought her closer. “You asked why I wanted to do this. That’s why. I wanted to see the stars I always wished on at night.”

The two girls could hear a quiet hissing sound as the airlock lost its last store of power.


Bridget Sexton


Krislyn Singletary

Alcohol-based Markers