Juhyoung Lee PD: 7 6/5/23

 Modern Mythology 2023

Name: Juhyoung Lee

PD: 7

6/5/23 (revised)

Creativity & Fiction

The streets were littered with bodies. Every direction I looked, a crimson stain fell into my view. Car alarms, firefighter sirens, and the harsh banging of gunshots filling the street with noise. The scream of metal ripping and tearing. Fires ate all in their path. The living died and the dead came back to life. What if we had decided to mobilize the full army instead of just the alpha units? I couldn’t help but wonder why we had not. Not when I asked the alpha team leader, not when our missions became noticeably riskier, barely succeeding, and definitely not right now. I layed in a pool of my own blood, my rife gone under the swam of bodies. My vision faded and the sharp sting of teeth ripping into my neck subsided. Then I joined the bodies.

The next time I opened my eyes, the fires had subsided and the only sounds were the shuffling of empty feet. The only thing I knew was that I was hungry. When was the last time I ate? I couldn’t remember. The sun went down and the moon filled its place. 

I felt no fatigue. I needed no sleep. All night I wandered. I stumbled and fell. I looked down at my legs only to see that my toes pointed in opposite directions. On my right leg my heel led the way with my toes following right behind. Were my leg always like that? I couldn’t remember. 

I felt no pain. My legs moved and that all I needed. The sun filled the sky again and I wandered. My hunger only grew. Where am I going and what am I doing? I just kept on limping. The sun fell beneath the ground and the moon rose up

Finally I spotted a meal. They ran on two legs and screamed. The shuffling of empty feet quickened into a mindless run. I ran too. They ran behind a swinging wood wall with a cross on the front. We were hungry. Smashing into the door, we scraped and tore away. I hit the window. It shattered, turning intoa  dance of colors as it broke. We were in. BANG. We kept coming. BANG. The little foods and the big foods kept running. We ripped and tore away, eating everything in our path. I set my eyes on the biggest morsel. It was big, plump and held a little morsel and a wood stick that made loud noises. It went through another wood swinging wall. It ran and we ran after it. We were faster. We grabbed the big morsel. “RUN, Sharon, don’t stop! Just run, run-run-run!”, it shouted before she disappeared under the bodies, screaming and struggling as the little one ran off into the woods. 

The sun fled and the moon rose and more joined the bodies.

Juhyoung Lee PD: 7 6/3/23

 Modern Mythology 2023

Name: Juhyoung Lee

PD: 7

6/3/23

Creativity & Fiction

The streets were littered with bodies. Every direction I looked, a crimson stain fell into my view. Car alarms, firefighter sirens, and the harsh banging of gunshots filling the street with noise. The scream of metal ripping and tearing. Fires ate all in their path. The living died and the dead came back to life. As I layed in a pool of my own blood, my vision faded and the sharp sting of teeth ripping into my neck subsided. Then I joined the bodies.

The next time I opened my eyes, the fires had subsided and the only sounds were the shuffling of empty feet. But I only noticed my hunger. When was the last time I ate? I couldn’t remember. The sun went down and the moon filled its place. 

I felt no fatigue. I needed no sleep. All night I wandered. I stumbled and fell. I looked down at my legs only to see that my toes pointed in opposite directions. On my right leg my heel led the way with my toes following right behind. Were my leg always like that? I couldn’t remember. 

I felt no pain. My legs moved and that all I needed. The sun filled the sky again and I wandered. My hunger only grew. Where am I going and what am I doing? I just kept on limping. The sun fell beneath the ground and the moon rose up

Finally I spotted a meal. They ran on two legs and screamed. The shuffling of empty feet quickened into a mindless run. I ran too. They ran behind a swinging wood wall with a cross on the front. We were hungry. Smashing into the door, we scraped and tore away. I hit the window. It shattered, turning intoa  dance of colors as it broke. We were in. BANG. We kept coming. BANG. The little foods and the big foods kept running. We ripped and tore away, eating everything in our path. I set my eyes on the biggest morsel. It was big, plump and held a little morsel and a wood stick that made loud noises. It went through another wood swinging wall. It ran and we ran after it. We were faster. We grabbed the big morsel. “RUN, Sharon, don’t stop! Just run, run-run-run!”, it shouted before she disappeared under the bodies, screaming and struggling as the little one ran off into the woods. 

The sun fled and the moon rose and more joined the bodies.

Bill Huang, Period 7, 5/4/23

Bill Huang

5/4

Period 7

Modern Mythology 2023

Creativity and Fiction

Craft a piece of FAN fiction related to any of the reading we’ve done in class that addresses one or more of the following: 

Literary elements (i.e. structure, tone, diction, mood, irony, and figurative language) to craft a narrative.

Fanfiction about Sharon from World War Z

It was wet and cold. [Sharon crosses her arms and shivers violently] It rained before. The wind kept hitting me. The forest was quiet. Just me there. [She lays on the ground in a fetal position] I went to sleep then.

When I woke up, my tummy hurt more. [She rubs her stomach as it growls] I walked around. No food anywhere. I felt weak and dizzy. Then I heard voices. 

[Sharon stands up and limps forward] I saw them. People around a fire. They all had … [she mimes a pistol]. They had bags of stuff too. They were sitting or sleeping. Two of them were looking away. I watched them from behind a tree. Mommy said to not trust strangers. 

They had food. They were eating. They looked angry. [She mimics different voices] “You left us there to die!” “We barely held our own, Zack was all over us too!” “Bullshit, you just wanted all of our supplies for yourselves” “She died because of you!”. One of them stood up and [she mimics cocking the hammer of a revolver] pointed at another adult. None of them talked now. 

I leaned out past the tree more. Some of the people sleeping were hurt. An old woman went between them, making sure they were okay. It was like when mommy checked me when I was sick. 

One of the men saw me and shouted [she mimics a rough voice] “Zack! Over there behind the tree!”. Everyone stopped and looked at me. 

“Kill it!” “Crush it’s skull!” “Make those fuckers pay!” as they came closer. I hid behind the tree. [She mimics the sound of a gunshot and a ricocheting bullet]

[Sharon puts her hands over her ears and screams]. Then they stopped. [She mimics various voices] “She’s one of us, stop shooting!” “What if she’s infected?” “Keep her away!”. I slowly looked at them from behind the tree. They looked back at me, some scared, some sorry. 

They brought a dog over. [She mimics the sound of a dog sniffing] After that, they let me eat and sleep next to the fire. 

Ashley Lam, Period 2, 4/24/23

Ashley Lam

Period 2

Modern Mythology 2023

Creativity & Fiction

Craft a piece of FAN fiction related to any of the reading we’ve done in class that addresses one or more of the following: 

• Literary elements (i.e. structure, tone, diction, mood, irony, and figurative language) to craft a narrative.
• Structural features of drama (stage directions, character attributions/tags, dialogue, monologues, and/or soliloquies) to craft a script.
• Multidimensional characters to develop themes and create socio-political metaphors.

There once was a creature named Grendel. He stayed mostly to himself and had little to no friends. He didn’t have much going for him, as he was just living one day at a time. Most of his days were spent daydreaming about finding his people. He fantasized about his life, mainly because he wasn’t happy in the reality of it. He always tried to put himself out there, but things  never seemed to work out. His whole life, he only experiences toxic relationships, as that was the only thing he knew. His fear of being alone forced him to stay until they left. He felt as if he was stranded in the desert all the time: weak and lifeless. His relationships reminded him of a painful prick from a cactus: everytime he would try to get close to the ones he allegedly “loved” he w0uld get stung. However it felt as if he were addicted to the pain. 

Grendel spent his days in his cave, hiding in the dark because he feared he didn’t know the light. Even though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he felt envious of other people and their genuine connections. He always believed that the universe cursed him, feeling resentful towards humans. He convinced himself that he didn’t enjoy joyful things, but in reality he just wished he could experience it for himself. He experienced a plethora of self hatred, always blaming himself for other people’s actions. “I was put on this earth to suffer. Why am I not worthy enough?”, he would often repeat to himself. He observed the world in the comfort of his own home, terrified to put himself out there again due to his past. However, one day his world seemingly changed.

Grendel only left his home to pick up necessities, such as groceries. However, one day he decided to take a walk outside, because he was tired  of sitting in his own misery constantly. As he was going on a stroll in his neighborhood, a runner accidentally bumps into him. As he collects himself, he starts to walk away from the situation, having more hatred towards society, when suddenly the runner starts initiating conversation. “My apologies sir, although I’m not complaining. You look like a dream.”, the runner said. Grendal began to feel something he hadn’t felt in a while: excited. “My name is Lestat, and you are?” His cheeks flushed red as he responded. Pale skinned, tall, and handsome Lestat. The angel sent from the heavens to save me from my misery, he thought. They exchanged numbers and had a genuine conversation, or so he thought. When he got home that day he felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. He felt an exuberant amount of joy, and he held onto that feeling for what seemed like forever. Lestat had been chatting with him online, constantly asking when he would see his beautiful face again. Lestat would always be bold and lustful when texting Grendal, something he had rarely experienced. It made him feel excited for the future. They decided to meet up at a beautiful restaurant, which Lestat agreed to pay for.

On the day of the date, he romanticized his whole future with him, even though he barely knew anything about him. However, when dinner rolled around, it wasn’t what he imagined. At first, he believed that the questions Lestat asked him were simply just to get to know him. However, as the date continued, he quickly realized something didn’t feel genuine. “You should take me to your place.” “How much money do you make?” “Could you get me this new suit? You would do it if you really loved me, right?” Grendal felt a sense  of unease. The night came to an end, and he leaned in for a kiss goodnight, to which Lestat completely ignored. When Grendal went home, he decided to text Lestat about his worries, as he was sure he was just overthinking. However, deep down he knew this wasn’t right. He asked Lestat when would be the next time he would see him. He barely got answers out of him, and he was feeling a sense of anxiety. Lestat then told him, “to be honest, you aren’t what I thought you would be. This needs to end.” Grendel was heartbroken. How could something so lovely end so fast? He pleaded and begged him to give him an answer. Lestat was enjoying himself, seemingly joyful at Grendel’s misery. “ Do you seriously think that anyone could be genuinely interested in you? Look at you. You remind me of a monster. I was only interested because I thought you could benefit me financially.” Grendel couldn’t stop the tears from running down his face. He frantically tried to save their relationship, but Lestat wasn’t interested. “No one will ever love you man.” Those were Lestat’s last words to Grendel. Suddenly, what felt like an angel sent from God was quickly revealed to be the devil. It wasn’t the “dreamy feeling” Lestat described him as. Instead, it was a nightmare. 

“He’s right. Look at me. I am not worthy of anyone’s love.”, thought Grendal.

Jalen Tsang, Period 7, 3/20/23

Socio-political Consciousness

Having power gives you the ability to do something. The more power you have the more you can do. This idea is what makes people desire power. The more someone wants to do something the more that person wants power. In modern society I feel like there are two types of power. One is political power and the other is financial power. Financial power is money. With money you can buy what you want whether that be an item or an experience. Political power is the power over other humans given by the government. To gain this power people are willing to do many things. Some people work long hard hours. Others campaign for political roles with lots of political power. People’s desire for power can also lead to them committing crimes such as bribery and fraud. 

Out of the two types of power I described I feel like the one easiest for me to get is financial power. For most people financial power is what they desire most. The ability to provide for their families and to get what they want, but sometimes it goes too far. Seeing my family fight over my grandmother’s inheritance and the way my family has broken apart has shown me what  power can do. Witnessing this has made me rethink how much I want money. I have come to the conclusion that while money is important for me to live life, it is not so important that I would destroy bonds over it. I hope that in the future I can maintain this mindset and live according to those ideas.

Jake Cobovic, Period 6, 4/19/2023

 [Before the war, Staten Island was a suburban alcove of New York City, home to nearly 500,000 people. Now, things look much different. The once quiet borough now serves as the bustling agricultural hub of the Hero City. Hard at work overseeing a new infrastructure project on the island is Jake Cobovic, a long time resident.]

I never would have imagined that Staten Island, of all places, would become an agricultural hub. I mean, to me, it was always a quiet place where families raised their kids and commuters escaped the chaos of the city. You know how suburbs are. There’s never any assumption that something could go wrong. You have your perfect lawn and perfect house with your perfect nuclear family and perfect life.

I started hearing rumors about the outbreak pretty early on. Posts online here and there about what was going on in China. I took it with a grain of salt though, People online always tended to blow stuff out of proportion. But I remained cautious about it, which is more than I could say for most of the people around me. Almost right before things really went down, we went down, my family went to stay with our relatives in the sticks of Connecticut. We were called paranoid for it quite a lot. To most people, staying right where they were was all they thought they needed to be safe. It’s amazing how even in the face of almost certain death, some people are still too afraid to leave their bubble… It was only when the outbreak was right at everyone’s doors that people reacted. People were scrambling for supplies, trying to protect their families, but it was too late. The infection spread rapidly, and before we knew it, the whole city was overrun, let alone Staten Island. But amidst all the chaos and destruction, there was a glimmer of hope. After the initial wave of the outbreak and the subsequent war, when the dust started to settle, we realized that Staten Island had a unique advantage—it was an island. The infected couldn't easily cross the water, and that gave us a fighting chance.

When the idea of reclaiming Staten Island came up, I was skeptical, to say the least. How could we turn this devastated place into something productive again? But the leadership in Hero City saw the potential, and they assembled a team of engineers, urban planners, and agricultural experts to spearhead the project. And somehow, I found myself leading that team. I won't lie, it was a daunting task. The island was in shambles. Buildings were destroyed, infrastructure was in ruins, and the land itself was contaminated. But we had a vision, and we were determined to make it a reality.

The first step was clearing the debris and assessing the damage. We had to make sure the area was safe for our team to work in. It was like walking through a ghost town. I remember seeing remnants of people's lives strewn across the streets – abandoned cars, shattered windows, and overgrown gardens. It was a sobering reminder of what had been lost. Going around the places I used to frequent before the war and seeing the remains of bustling businesses and my friends’ homes was heartbreaking. But we couldn't dwell on the past. We had a job to do. That’s one thing the war taught me. That no matter how difficult the circumstances, you have to keep moving forward. There were times when it felt overwhelming, when the weight of the task at hand threatened to crush me. But I couldn't afford to succumb to despair. I had a responsibility to the people who had put their trust in me, to the survivors who needed a fresh start.

There were days when I questioned everything. What was the point of rebuilding? Why bother trying to turn this place into something resembling what it used to be? But then I would look around me and see the resilience of the people working alongside me. They had lost so much, yet they continued to show up every day, ready to put in the hard work. It was inspiring, and it reminded me that we were doing more than just rebuilding infrastructure. We were rebuilding hope.

But despite the progress we were making, there were moments when the memories of the war would come flooding back. Sometimes it was a sound that triggered it—a distant scream that echoed through the empty streets, or the rumble of a building being demolished. Other times, it was a smell—the stench of decay or the smoke from burning wreckage. These reminders would transport me back to those dark days, when death and destruction were all around us. I struggled with the weight of those memories, with the guilt of surviving while so many others perished. There were times when I questioned whether I deserved to be here, whether I had done enough to earn my place among the living. But then I would remember the faces of the people we were helping—the families who would have a chance at a new life because of our efforts. And that's what kept me going.

Damon Zhang, Period 7, 5/24/23

 Damon Zhang

Period 7

5/24/23

Modern Mythology 

Creativity and Fiction

There is no way this has happened.

They evolved.

Somehow, what can only be described as “The Fungus” from The Last of Us, the “T Virus” from Resident Evil, and the “Rage Virus” from 28 Days Later, combined with Solanum to create a species of… creatures with speed and strength that even Satan would envy. I have been chosen to record the remains of the human race after the new strain emerged. I gathered some documents of first hand experiences from those who I hope are still alive.

6/2/2xxx

A bloodstained and torn letter, addressed to “Harold King”

The government has abandoned us. Their false words that “everything will be ok” only assured the naive children that reside with us in this hospital. Everyday, more of us go down. Everyday, the officials say “help is coming”. 

Some of us are considering making a run for it to New Washington, but others still trust the calming words of the government, as if they’re chickens being led to the slaughterhouse. Tensions rose and I fear a violent result when they leave.

Yours truly,

Alex Smithson

8/23/2xxx

From the Healing Waters Church

A crumpled loose leaf paper found in a trash can

Author redacted

The sickening screeches from the creatures were washed out by the church choir. The people in here are mostly living at peace it seems, greeting each other with sermons and prayers, and when someone unfortunate is killed, whether by cholera from the poorly maintained pipelines or the horde, they’re met with mostly words of prayers. Most people seem to support the activities in the church, but I think I’m the only one who thinks all of this is [CENSORED]. The denizens think that thoughts and prayers can only save you from so much. I’d speak out, but I’m one of many who remains unarmed. I gotta get outta here.

10/4/2xxx

A journal scrap from “Redshirt”

Changes to “them” or not, life remains the same. Shooting, eating, praying to god I don’t get bit. Death is not an escape for me, as I still have my children to tend to, they are my only light. Everyday, I fight in the hopes that they can walk in the meadows without fear. Apart from my kids, Benny and Bonnie, I trust no one else. Not the government, not the clergy, not the rich. No one. What may seem as an outcast may be the lone wolf who survives when it is all over. 

==================================================================

11/25/2xxx

Benny is gone.

Bonnie is frantic, and I have no idea where he went. I could have sworn he was playing with the police truck, but he is gone. We are packing our bags and trying to find him.

==================================================================

1/3/2xxx

Is this the resolution I had hoped for?

We went to the police station. Benny loved the police. It was the first place we would go when he went missing. I hate to rely on the help of others, but… The police station was our best bet. I didn’t expect much from them, but after seeing the truck there… It was horrible. I don’t want to write what they did to Benny, but we are going back home. On the bright side, I heard that some laboratories called “TerraGroup” are on the verge of creating an antidote to reverse “them”.