Campbell River, British Columbia
We welcome a new column in the form of poems and stories written by students of Timberline Secondary School.
These students are from Justus Havelaar's writing class, and have many of their works published on their own website.
With their permission we have posted just a sample here with a link to their site if you wish to read more of the class's work.

Chocolate Bar
by Annika Lampikoski

He stood at the candy shelf in the local superstore, and couldn't decide which chocolate bar he'd like. He didn't
fancy dark chocolate, so all those ones were off the list. But he liked peanuts, and he liked caramel…
Oh, it was so hard; nothing was exactly what he wanted! She stood by the same candy shelf as the boy did, and
had the same kind of problems herself. There were so many chocolate bars to choose from…

He decided to take a caramel-peanut-chocolate one, but as he tried to grab it, he felt a hand instead of a
chocolate bar! He startled, and noticed a cute girl beside him. Apparently it was her hand he'd grabbed.
"I'm sorry," he said and blushed. "It doesn't matter," she said and looked at him with a little smile on her face.

"Having problems, eh?" she asked and grinned. "Yeah, kinda", he answered, and looked at his feet.
This was the first time ever he had touched a girl's hand that was as soft as this one. His knees felt like
spaghetti and he had troubles to not fall on his nose. " Oh well, I gotta go," she said and grabbed a
chocolate bar with her left hand. The other one she gave to the boy. "Wanna come with me?"
"Uh, of course," he said, and took her hand.
"Don't forget your chocolate bar!" she said to him as they left the candy shelf.
"Ah, it's not important anymore," he said, and blushed.

If Only She Could Fly
by Alexis Tanner

The little girl
Flew about
With her hands 
Her words
Fluttering in his face
But Daddy didn't know,
Nor care,
What it was she said.

Maybe he did care..
Give him the benefit
Of the doubt..

But he didn't learn,
Wouldn't learn,
The language of her hands.

She would stutter,
And she would yell
With her
The silence of her story,
Enraging him.

Her words,
Like muted songbirds,
Were wasted on him,


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