Oak LeavesA Journal of Works-in-Progress

by Students Entering Grades 4-6Creative Writing Camp

Summer 2010

RED OAK YOUNG WRITERS���

Thank You...Through monetary contributions, moral support and other good deeds, many people come together to make Creative Writing Camp a memorable and enriching experience for our young people. Red Oak would especially like to thank the following individuals and organizations:

Judy Bridges & Dave BlankMargaret CrockerSatchi Hiremath

Kris JaegerLinda Mrochinski

Marian Center for NonProfi tsMarjorie Pagel

Pam ParkerAlison PolivkaLaurel Poston

Robert VaughanLaura Sear

Susa SilvermarieTen Chimneys Estate

Jason M. WaltzKristine Weir-Martel

Wilson Center for the ArtsCarol Wobig

Copyrights are held by the writers whose work appears in this book. If you wish to quote a passage, please submit a written request to Red Oak Young Writers, llc. Your request will be forwarded to the writer. Red Oak accepts no responsibility for the material or copyright arrangements.

Published by: Red Oak Young Writers, llc P.O. Box 342 Genesee Depot, WI 53127

414-881-7276 www.redoakyoungwriters.com

First Printing: September, 2010 Printed in USA

Young Writers at Red OakSummer, 2010

We are very proud of our young writers and the work they did during our week together at writing camp. In fi ve short days, the pieces in this book have emerged from idea to draft, from draft to workshopped piece. Partici-pants learned that our best writing usually doesn’t fl ow easily from our pencils the fi rst time, but -- with hard work and a little help from our friends -- it grows like fl owers in a well-tended garden. We know the lessons learned at camp will serve our young people well, both at the page and later in life.

We hope you enjoy reading these “works in progress” as much as our young writers did creating them.

The Red Oak Coaching StaffThe Red Oak Coaching StaffKim SuhrKim Suhr

Robert VaughanPam ParkerPam ParkerKris JaegerKris Jaeger

Susa SilvermarieLaurel PostonAlison Polivka

and our “cookie lady,” Carol Wobig

A Word about our History...

Over 15 years ago, Judy Bridges of Redbird Studio founded a summer program to support young writers in the thing they love most: putting pen to paper. The concept was simple: provide young people with time, space, and expert writing coaches, and they will make magic happen at the page. It did.

Over the years, the camps and staff expanded. Young people and their parents requested more programming and a wider geographical reach. Soon, we realized it was time to create an organization dedicated specifi cally to young people and their writing needs. In January 2008, Red Oak Young Writers was born.

We will be forever grateful to Judy Bridges for the vision and support she has provided young writers -- and their teachers -- over the years. Without her, this would not have been possible.

Thank you, Judy!

Our 2010 Young WritersEntering grade 4

Zachary CNina DTroy H

Emma HCatherine P

Entering grade 5Margot AErica BSteven I

Spencer JAbigail KSimran KShruti NAnne R

Gabrielle RNatalie SUma S

Sabrina Z

Entering grade 6Clare J

Dani K (gr. 7)Shagun KRayna K

Madeline MSarah SGrace SEthan S

Madeline TMaeve W

Zachary C

My Trip to the Eiffel Tower

When I got to Paris, the fi rst thing I did was to take out my fl ip video camera and start taking videos of everything. One place I went to is the Eiffel Tower. When my parents and I reached the Tower, it was nighttime, around eight or nine o’clock. The Eiffel Tower was beautifully lit and glowing above me. The place was really crowded. When we tried to get the tickets to go up the elevators in the Eiffel, the lines were really, really long. When I went under the tower, I didn’t see anything because of the construction, but after I went to the side of the tower, it looked like a big hill sloping down. When we tried to get the tickets, the line was, like, two miles long. When I started to go back, I looked behind me and the whole Tower started fl ashing. It looked like sprinkles. After the excitement, we went back to our hotel. The next day, we went back to the Eiffel tower around one o’clock in the afternoon. The line was the same length as the day before, but I wasn’t tired this time. Now, I bet you that you wouldn’t guess how much time it took to get tickets: two hours! When we went to the fi rst fl oor, it was pretty high of the ground, like, three miles high. It was quite interesting. I could see the golden part of a building and that was it. From

the second fl oor, I could see the whole city and a ship fl oating across the river. I could feel how strong the wind was. When we went to the third fl oor, I was pretty sure the wind was going to blow my face off. Now I could hear the honking of the cars and the chattering of the people. I could hear the wind whistling past my ears. I took about ten videos on those three fl oors. When I went up the elevator to the second fl oor, my ears popped; on the elevator to the third fl oor, my ears popped even more. But on the very top fl oor, my ears popped like fi reworks. On the very top fl oor, I could feel the cold, smooth metal. On the top of the ceiling it had some fl ags of different countries, and it told you how many miles it is away from the Eiffel Tower. After that, we went down and took more pic-tures, and that was the end of the Eiffel Tower trip.

Nina D

The Marshmallow World

“But, Dad, why not?” “Because no marshmallow would do such a thing!” “But think of all the artists in the human world. Like, uhm, Vermeer! He was a great artist.” “But, Son, they don’t even speak Marshmal-low.”

by students entering...

Grade 4

Troy H

Book Two: Going to the South Pole

“Troy, wake up,” said Zach, “I have enough money to go to the South Pole!” “So, what should we do?” said Troy. Metcalfe said, “Quack, Quack.” “Sorry,” said both of them, “you can’t go be-cause it is too cold for you.” Zachary had a mountain lion in the South Pole and that why they are going. “Let’s get into the car. The plane is boarding in two hours!” “Shoot,” said Troy, “we better get going.” Then he put on his coat and packed coats, gloves, snacks, drinks, his DS, and his iPod and they left. They drove for fi fteen minutes until they came to the airport. When they came to the airport, they went though the security and went to their airline. They were just in time. When they went in the plane, there were only four other people in the plane; they were scientists. The tiny white airplane took off and the weather start to turn cold. While they were going there, the view was beautiful. They saw a lot of pelicans while fl y-ing over Mexico. When they were in South America, they saw a green, wet, tropical forest, a little rundown town, and went though the hot equator. Also they saw cold, dark Elephant Island. When they fi nally came to the icy cold South Pole, they came out of the plane. “What a fl ight,” said Zack. “I was so squished in the airplane.” When they were out of the plane, there were a few cracks on the wall with a little snow pouring in. There was a snack shop in the airport and a few sci-entists studying science. “We better call the taxi,” said Troy. Zack took out his shiny blue phone and called a taxi driver. “Could we go to the rundown city in the South Pole?” said Zachary. “Sure, be there in ten minutes,” said the driver. Ten minutes later, he was not there. “Why is the taxi driver not here?” asked Zachary “He should be here by now. He said, ‘In ten minutes,’ so he should be here.” Zachary was very upset. “Is he drunk or some-thing?” Three hours later he came. He had blond curly hair, fi erce green eyes and wore blue jeans. “Sorry,” said the driver, “I peed in my pants twice while I was

“So?” “Son, I have to make dinner.” When I got to my room, I sat on my bed. Oh sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sammy. I live in Marshmallow World, which is right under New York City. I’m nine years old, and I want to be an artist, but my dad says I have to be a marshmallow or a s’more when I grow up. I don’t even get the whole point of that. I live with my mom, my dad, my sister, Catharine, and my two dogs, Fudge, and Marshmallow. I used to have a brother, but he was eaten. He wanted to see what New York looked like and, well, things got kind of ugly. Humans must really like marshmallows. Well, anyway, I want to be an artist because my great-great grandpa was the marshmallow version of Leonardo Da Vinci. I know it’s in my blood; I’m a great artist. I’ve drawn things like my apartment, some buildings up in New York, my dogs, my family...lots of things like that. No one really knows where I hide my drawings; I hide them in a secret compartment on my top closet shelf. My dog, Fudge, nudged his way into my room and hopped on my bed with me. But then my weird sister came in with her headphones on. “Dinner’s ready. Dad told me to tell you,” she said, shaking her head like a marshmallow baseball player bobblehead. When I went into the kitchen, the television was on. It was the soccer match: the marshmallows versus the crackers. You see, there are other food worlds, which is how we have professional sports. You would think we would eat marshmallows for dinner, but that would be eating our own kind. We eat food from other food countries instead; that’s how we mock them. Tonight we had sushi and it was actu-ally pretty good. When I woke up in the morning, I smelled chocolate and vanilla cake. It was sitting on the foot of my bed. Then my mom and my sister popped out of their hiding spots and yelled, “Happy Birthday!” I noticed that something was missing: Dad. But then my dad was pushing something into the room. I jumped out of bed and ripped the wrapping paper off the present: it was an easel. Fudge and Marshmallow came into the room with pencils and paint taped to their backs. I really got a great birthday after all.

going on the road.” Zachary and Troy laughed re-ally hard. They both got the hiccups. “And could you please let me go to bathroom?” asked the driver. While he was going to the bathroom, he slipped and landed right on his butt. “Ouch!” he screamed. Ten minutes later, he came hurrying back. They started driving and something bad happened.

Emma H

Twinkle’s Clumsy Mistake 1 Once upon a time, in the North Pole, there lived a curly-haired, redheaded, freckle-faced, extra tiny elf named Twinkle. Twinkle did a very clumsy thing. It all started one freezing cold afternoon. Now, Twinkle was the youngest of six elves. They were all great at something, but Twinkle thought she wasn’t good at anything. Star, the eldest, was a slim brunette who made the best hot cocoa and cook-ies. Rocky, a curly-haired blonde, trained the best reindeer, like Rudolph, for Santa. Coco, Rocky’s twin, was the best toymaker ever. Then came Lollypop, who wrote the naughty/nice list. She had jet-black hair that draped around her cheeks. But the one Twinkle envied most was Zippy. Zippy was Santa’s assistant. He was the most respect-ed elf ever! He could do anything he wanted. I bet he could waste all the toys right before Christmas and wouldn’t get scolded, Twinkle often thought. It seemed, to Twinkle, that her parents were proud of all the elves except her.

2 One day Twinkle’s jealousy became too much for her. She had to tell someone. But who? Of course. Santa! And so Twinkle walked to the large, endless, marble staircase. To get there she passed the portrait hall, which contained paintings of important elves like Timmy Smiles, who had to fi ll in for Santa when he broke his back. She also passed by the kitchen, where the heavy aroma of ginger bread and French toast tempted her to taste some of the wonderful goodies. And fi nally she made the steep journey up the stair-case to Santa’s room. “Go on,” Zippy said to Twinkle. “Ho! Ho! Come closer,” Santa said in a jolly voice. “Oh Santa! I’m green with envy,” she wailed. “Of who?” Santa questioned.

“Of everyone,” Twinkle sobbed. Then the whole story poured out. By the time she was fi nished, she was crying so hard she could have made a river. Santa wiped her eyes and told her, “You’re good at something; you just don’t know what it is yet.” Twinkle didn’t think so, but she smiled bravely and said, “I’m sure you’ll be right in the long run any-way.” With that, she went home.

3 Two days after Twinkle’s visit with Santa, she found herself sorting toys again. Sorting toys was the most common task an elf could get. Twinkle knew all too well how to sort toys. She had sorted more toys than any other elf. Although she would much rather write the naughty/nice list with Lollypop, she had to complete her task or she couldn’t participate in the all-elf snowball fi ght! That was the most horrible punish-ment possible. Anyway, sorting toys was easy. You just put the working toys down the Christmas chute and the broken ones in the reject bin. Five hours later, Coco dumped the last pile of toys on Twinkle’s table. It was 8:00 She had to hurry. In her haste, she dumped all the toys in the reject-bin.

Catherine P

The Adventures of Ann and the Seagull

Ann is a girl about ten years old who lives with her Mom and Dad in New York. She does not have a brother or a sister. On the night before her Dad’s birthday, she was ending a long day when suddenly she found herself on a pier. Ann sat on the pier and looked at the waves. She felt lonely. She waded out in the water until it was up to her knees, and she smelled a fi sh-like smell. She looked at the blue sky. It was full of seagulls. One fl ew down and landed in the water in front of her. Then, he spoke! He said, “I’ll fl y with you.” “No,” Ann said. “I can’t fl y.” “Just jump,” said the seagull. So she did. Splash! “No, no,” said the seagull. “Bend your knees and jump really high.” She bent her knees and jumped. She did it! She was fl ying! She felt like a bird.

“Flap your arms like this,” he called. Ann and the seagull went lots of places in New York. They saw the big buildings, lots of people, and other birds in the sky. Then they landed in front of a store. Ann saw her mom inside the store. “Mr. Seagull, I need to go home,” Ann called. But he did not hear. Ann’s mom saw Ann and walked up to her. Ann tried to fl y away, but she fell and was caught. Mom looked at Ann with dark brown eyes and said, “Let’s take you home.” Ann was put in a taxi, and her mom sat next to her. When they were comfortable, Ann’s mom said, “Ann, you were supposed to be home baking the cake for your dad’s birthday.” “Oh, no! I forgot about the cake!” said Ann. When they got home, the seagull had already made a delicious looking cake. “My specialty – sar-dine cake,” called the seagull. “I made fi ve cakes, complete with seaweed icing.” “Oh no!” Ann said. “My dad hates sardines.” It was too late. She sat a chair next to her dad. “Is this my cake? It’s so...” Ring! Her alarm went off. Ann woke up. “Come down stairs with me and see the choco-late cake I baked,” said Mom. “Oh, it was just a dream,” Ann mumbled. “I’ll be right there. That’s the best cake I’ve ever smelled,” Ann called as she ran down the stairs.

Margot A

Water Lily

Waves rocked the rowboat across the violent waters. My brother and sister clung desperately to the sides as I bailed water out of the rapidly fi lling boat. “Jessica!” my sister’s cry faded as she was heaved over the side by a giant wave. Soon after, the rowboat fl ipped over complete-ly. We were all plunged into the frigid water. I sank down, down ... I rose to the surface, retching and coughing up water. I saw my brother struggling nearby. I tried to reach him but was fl ung backward by a spinning wall of water, which hurled me away. Blackness. All was blackness. Then out of the blackness came pain. Pain so deep and excruciating that my body felt like it was being torn apart. I came to, rubbing my head which, I fi gured, had been bumped on some nearby rocks. Rocks? Where was I? I tried to fi nd my surroundings, but the pain was too extreme. I slept. When I woke, I found I was on a rocky beach. I searched for any sign of human life. Then I saw it. My sister’s body was lying limply by the rocks. I rushed to her. “Allie?” I asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

I turned away, my eyes stinging with tears. Al-lie! I remembered all that she had been. A shy twelve-year-old on the fi rst day of middle school. A toddler, cheery as she fell again and again, learning to walk. I took her body tenderly in my arms and wept. I wept for myself. I wept for Allie, broken and gone. I wept for my brother, Henry, and for our parents. I found shelter behind some bushes. I laid Al-lie there and promised silently that I would return. I turned to the ocean. Silently, I begged, please let there be something, anything! But there was nothing. I heard a sob and turned sharply. There, standing, was Henry. I embraced him, too happy to speak. Then I thought of Allie and so-bered. Together we buried her, scraping dirt until our nails bled. I gently laid a forget-me-not in her hands. And then we waited.

Spitfire

“Your mother’s death wasn’t an accident. She was murdered,” Grandmother began. Edward gasped. “What happened?” “One dark night, a man came to my house. He knew I was suspicious about the accident, and he said he would kill you, if I told.” Edward was shocked. “Grandmother, we have to do something about this!” “Indeed,” said a voice from the shadows. A man in a navy blue suit stepped out, holding a pol-ished revolver.

by students entering...

Grade 5

Edward froze. “That’s right,” the man said calmly, “Don’t move.” Grandmother, taking a breath, screamed, “Aiiiiieee!” The windows came crashing down, cut-ting the man to shreds. Edward grabbed the man’s pistol and shot open the door. He saw a patrol of ten men standing there, whom he slid under and shot. He then patrolled the grounds, where he found and killed the remainder of the group.

Erica B

Paintings

There is a cold fi eld with silk clouds touching the ground, with a thousand tulips in a fi eld and tall mountains touching the sky. In the middle of the day, the sky is covered with light. Red, blue and a little pinch of green, with birds fl ying above the clouds, they are fl ying up and down. On the mountains is where they live. In those mountains are ice spikes, glittering and shining as you look at them but on the ground is hot melting lava, that burns when you touch it. Around that mountain lies a big lake that has many rocks; it forms a waterfall. Back in the forest, with the tulips and the silk clouds touching the ground, are bears eating honey from the beehives in the tall trees, ducks and birds fl ying around, frogs jumping high, wolves hunting all day long and at the night, they howl at the moon.

Steven I

People

People think we’re all alikeBut there are different breedsNot because of names like MikeWe were planted from different seeds

There are theater peopleWho love attentionThere are police peopleWho love intervention

People think we’re all alikeBut there are different breedsNot because of names like MikeWe were planted from different seeds

There are spoiled peopleWho buy everythingThere are writer peopleQuiet little things

People think we’re all alikeBut there are different breedsNot because of names like MikeWe were planted from different seeds

There are music peopleWho express themselves with an instrumentThere are military peopleWho brace themselves even when destruction is im-minent

People think we’re all alikeBut there are different breedsNot because of names like MikeWe were planted from different seeds

Now I ask you

Who are you?

Spencer J

The Blue Catapult

America was in a crisis. They were at war with China because we dis-agreed with their government, and China easily out-numbered our army. The USA needed help. Fast. BAM! A cannonball collided with some barracks. Soldiers were running, fl eeing for their lives. KABOOM! The whole army was killed on May 27, 1967, in Volk Field, Wisconsin. Make that most of the army. Roy Holt, twenty-three, was on vacation in Florida when an atom bomb struck Chippewa County, destroying most of Wisconsin.

But Roy was gifted. He could beat China by himself. And in the end, he did. As soon as Roy heard the news, he knew what he had to do. He built a catapult out of wood, and to show that he was American, painted it blue, and took it to Beijing. There, he loaded his catapult with cherry bombs and timers. He painted them red, and with aim and haste, launched them into the market’s vegetable vendor. The people decided that they were grape toma-toes, and ate them. The fetid smell of bomb smoke wafted in the air. After that victory, Roy opened a restaurant in China. People came from everywhere in China to eat his food. They didn’t notice that Roy had made the food radioactive. When everyone was in the hospital, he loaded his catapult and thrust a C-bomb down the hospital’s stone chimney. Roy Holt was killed in the explosion, but so was everyone in the hospital. He was always remem-bered for his services. Moral: watch out when you eat grape tomatoes!

Abigail K

I Hid My Sibling’s Book

One day, I bought a new computer game. It was sold out in almost every store in the world. It was a racing game in which you could have over one thou-sand people on your team. When I came home, my little brother came up to me. “No fair, you got something!” he yelled. I was shocked because he already had this super expensive robot that he already almost fi nished. My computer game was only ten dollars. I just ignored my brother and walked to my computer. As I took out the disk, my brother grabbed the disk and threw it on the ground. It broke in half! I yelled for my mom really loud and she came in the room. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “That horrible, spoiled little— “ Right away my mom picked up the broken disk and turned to my brother. “You will have to pay me ten dollars,” she yelled. “But I spent all my money already!” “I will buy another one,” my mom said. I ran up the stairs, went to my room and started

thinking. I had to get revenge! I got an idea. I sat in my round bed and thought of a plan. About an hour passed and I fell asleep to a deep dream. I heard pounding on the door. “What did you do to my book?” my brother screamed. I got up and everything was dark. The windows were shut. The robot drove toward me with its giant eyes. I smelled lots of trouble. I felt the anger in my brother. The robot stopped and opened its huge mouth. It started sucking in all of my toys, pillows, and clothes; everything but me. I fell when the robot sucked in the bed. “You tried to destroy me by destroying my maker’s instruction book!” the robot said in a beeping sound. I screamed for my life. I woke up from the nightmare with all my stuff. I was still on my bed. My mom came in the room in her pajamas. “Your screaming woke me up,” she said. I got up and said it was just a nightmare. My mom left with a frown on her face. I changed my mind. Maybe I shouldn’t hide anything. I didn’t care that my brother broke my game. All I cared about was that I was alive and okay. It was dark in my room. I went to sleep.

Simran K

Cigam

And I started over. “My name is Sophie Cham-berleau. I am thirteen and a half, and I moved from Tennessee in the U.S. to here in Hanover, Germany. My birthday is October 21st and-” The teacher cut me off again. “That is quite enough, sit down. Sophie, you will see a sheet on your desk, the Cigam pledge. Please take a look at it, then recite loud and clear with your hand on your chest.” I read it fast, not understanding it at all. After I read it, some weird sensation pervaded me. I decided to ignore it. The teacher rambled on giving out work-sheets and giving us homework. When the bell rang, I saw the class guider again. She showed everyone their lockers before, but she showed me mine now. She said that all you needed to lock it and unlock it was put your hand on it and it would melt away. She said it was a rather big locker and left me with that. I was puzzled, so I put my hand on the locker and some other weird sensation pervaded me. I was carried into my locker. I went down this slippery thing

and landed in a comfy chair! I had my own apartment in the locker. There was a crackling, inviting fi re right in the middle. While I was sitting down, I noticed something odd. There was a dragon-like fi gure on the side of what looked like a doorway. I thought that it was another melter door, so I put my hand on it. It was a melter door and this time, it led to an odd classroom. It smelled of burning feathers and car exhaust. We even had an odd teacher. He looked like a jolly man, but he was rather, well, small. He was about the size of those little hedges people usually have in their front lawn. Surprisingly, he had a voice bigger than him-self. “Please take your seats, everyone,” he boomed out. I scrambled to the nearest seat and put my bag away under my seat. “Please put your bag in the cauldron in front of you” he said. And that got me thinking. Why this place was called Cigam? Why this place was called Cigam? But as usual, the teacher cut me off. “We are going to build rooms this week. You will see inside your desk there are many different jars. Take those out and put them on your desk.” The jars were labeled various things like butterfl y moss, cow wings, silk wood and many others that are too gross to label here.

Shruti N

More Than Magic: Prologue

A cloaked woman with pale, crinkly, worn skin and silver hair was staring at the arbor. Some would say she was a hag. “Tharamean-hasthear!” She muttered the in-cantation she’d known since she was young. “Thamor-ethcanth Nokolamemento! Serybutha THAHASTA!” The last word came out more like a scream. There was a blast of maroon light and the arbor was covered in grape vines. The woman pulled open the side of her cloak and withdrew a small silver plant with golden leaves that glistened in the dim light of the full moon. Then she picked the plumpest grape she could reach off the vines and squeezed a drop of juice on the plant’s leaves. “Merro,” she whispered, and the plant along with all the grapes on the arbor glowed. As this hap-pened, the hag’s eye’s glowed purple. She then re-

trieved a small, gold, ruby-encrusted box fi lled with silver soil. With the plant in one hand and the box in the other, she walked through the arbor to the gazebo that was at the very end of it. “In the year of 12, in just sixteen years, the girl shall discover truth. A boy shall follow and in the end, a box buried on this fi ne night shall be found by the girl, the boy, and the silvery moon!” she chanted. Then, after a minute of thinking she muttered, “hope-fully.” She carefully set the plant in the box and closed it. She locked the box with a purple-red key, which appeared in her pocket. She set the key on the ground and raised her hand over it. A beam of light fell from her hand and onto the key, which then turned into a spade. She used this special spade to dig a hole miles deep in just a second. When she reached the bottom, the rich aroma of earth fi lled her nose. She used her fi nger to poke a small hole in the wall. Then, she squeezed the spade and closed her eyes. What was once a spade was -once again- a key. She stuck the key into the hole and re-fi lled it with soil. The hag smiled and set the small box that contained the plant on the ground. Slowly, the hag levitated to the surface where the freshly cut grass was already moist with dew. With a wave of her hand, the hole disappeared as if it were never there. There was a click and the light on a nearby porch shined bright in the late night. There were two women: one carrying a baby girl and the other, a baby boy. There was a fl ash of red light and the hag was gone.

Annie R

The Red Ball of String

“No! No! Help me!” “Mwa ha ha! I’ve fi nally got you, Ms. Clear-water!” “Ahhhhh!” And then I woke up. Ma and Pa came racing to my room, thinking I was hurt. “What in the name of Susie is going on?” “I had a bad dream,” I told her. Then, she looked at me with those huge blue eyes and brown hair with tanned long legs. She just stared at me for a few awkward min-

utes and said, “You’re thirteen now! I think kids can have time to grow out of their nightmares, but you’ve had thirteen years!” she said surprisingly harshly. Going Away As Ma and Pa left the room, I couldn’t believe that Ma was mad at me for having a bad dream. I was so angry, I felt like running away. That’s exactly what I did. Big mistake! So, that very night, I took my overnight bag and ever so silently packed food, clothes, and, of course, water. I would go away for a week, time enough for Ma to feel pain. I crept outside and ran, the wind blowing in my long brown hair. As I ran, I let a ball of red string trail behind me; it was the largest ball of string I had. That way, when I wanted to come home, I could. I thought, Will people pick it up? But then again, who picks up or notices some red string? On my way, I encountered an old man riding around in a red pickup truck. He looked quite friendly. He said, “Oh sweetie, do you want some candy?” For one, it was 1:00 in the morning; for another, I hated candy, and for third, I couldn’t trust this guy. He creeped me out. So, I ran. Just ran.

Unexpected Happenings All of a sudden, ten men all dressed in green jumped out of the truck. Now, I was really freaking out. Next, I blanked out, just blanked. It was so realis-tic, yet so not. I smelled... strawberries.

Untitled

That day I got an anonymous letter. It said: Meet me at the junkyard in precisely six minutes. Bring no one. The junkyard was a quiet fenced-in lot in our small town of Hollyhills. Who could this message I’d found be from? I’d heard the doorbell ring, went to go see who was outside, and there was the note stuck in the door. I decided I should see who this person was. I had never seen anything like this in the whole state of Missouri, much less in little Hollyhills. I knew this letter said not to bring anyone, but I just couldn’t do that. It was too risky. So I called Rupert. Rupert was a bug-eyed spy that I had recruit-ed. He had black oily hair that came down to his chin. I told him on the phone, “I need you. We’ll talk at my house; come over now.”

Gabrielle R

Stars

Prologue I looked up at the stars trying to understand why I thought they were so beautiful. If I hadn’t, then none of that would have happened. My brother would still be with me and my parents wouldn’t be gone. I guess you can’t always have happy endings.

Chapter One When I woke up, the house seemed strangely silent, like something was missing. I looked around me at my room. The ceiling was a dark blue with the constellations painted on it, suggesting a clear starry night. While looking around me, I noticed my brother sleeping next to me. Then it all came back. How I had discovered their planet, how they had discovered mine, how for revenge they came and took my parents. How they are exes. I gazed up at my starry ceiling and thought about what had happened in the last few days. I had been stargazing Tuesday night; I had noticed a star that I had never seen before. It wasn’t a normal star, either. It was black. And since it was black and the sky was black, you wouldn’t think I’d have seen it. But this wasn’t the pleasant black of the nighttime sky; it was an evil sinister black, the exact opposite of light. So, I went on the computer, pulled up Google and typed in” Black Star.” Only one website came up. I clicked on Black Star. The article explained there was a belief that people’s souls went up into stars when they died. The exed souls mean the souls of bad people go up into the Black Star, and if someone is born that can see the Black Star, the exed souls will come down to earth and take revenge. The only way to stop them is to climb to the top of Mount Marian with the shadow stone or the world would end. At fi rst I thought it was fake: a lie to scare little kids and keep them from sleeping. But just then, I heard screams coming from the backyard and I smelled smoke. I ran down into the yard just to see my parents. My mother’s deep purple eyes wide in fear and her auburn hair coming undone from whirl-ing around in fright and my father, with his strong arms held up towards the sky, his hair in his eyes and

his mouth opened in a silent scream. I only got that glimpse before the dark cloud engulfed me. The smell of smoke fi lled my mouth and my nose choking me, making it hard to breathe. The blackness was so dark I felt as if I was not there. If I had closed my eyes just then, there wouldn’t have been any difference in the light. If anything, it would have been lighter. I was only in the dark cloud for a few seconds but it seemed like an eternity. Then I could breathe again. I looked around me and saw that the black cloud had disappeared, and so had my parents.

Natalie S

My St. Bernard and Me

It was 5:00 in the morning. I was in Switzer-land, my own home. I heard whining downstairs, in the kitchen. “Who would come up this mountain in this weather?” I asked myself. The wooden steps creaked as I tiptoed down-stairs. I opened the back door to fi nd a Saint Bernard puppy sitting on our rug. “Oh,” I cried as I cuddled her in my arms. Cold wind and snow blew in the house as I shut the door. I wrapped her in a blanket and put a pot of water over the fi re. When it was steaming, I took it off the hook and carried it to my room. Then I carried the puppy next to the pot. I took off her red collar and dunked her in the pot. Slowly the ice started to melt off of her. After thirty minutes, I took her out and wrapped her in a blanket. I plopped down with her in my bed. I told her about myself. “My name is Sheryl. You’re going to live with me now. I’m nine years old. I don’t go to school because my mom home schooled me, but my brother does go to school so you won’t see him around so much. Mom and Dad go to work. Mom cooks for a restaurant in town and Dad sells marmots. Marmots are an animal that gives an alarm when danger threat-ens. He also works at a store in town. We’re going to have to work for someone if I’m going to keep you. I can’t tell Mom and Dad that you’re here, so be quiet, okay?” She just licked my cheek. I decided to name her Bula. Her collar said in faded letters “DCO.” I

didn’t know what that meant so I just called her Bula. She would stay in my closet until we snuck to work. Then I dozed off, Bula by my side, unprepared for adventures with her.

Uma S

The Ill-Fated Necklace

Once upon a time, evil wizards and good ge-nies roamed. The King of Genies, Talin, and the leader of the wizard group, named Loppy, always fought. The genies tried reasoning with the wizards, but the wizards wouldn’t listen. They even harassed normal people like us when they couldn’t harass the genies. Once Loppy decided he wanted no more fi ghts, so he locked Talin inside a necklace made of every gem. But because he had dark magic to do so, he was also locked up. Meanwhile, the other genies faded the wizards. In that process, they faded themselves too. While all this was happening, Loppy and Talin fought each other inside the necklace. So it gave bad fortune to whoever had it. It ended up on the streets of China. Unfortu-nately, a beggar found it and whenever he asked for alms, no one gave him anything. Finally he decided to go to the Forbidden City where the Emperor lived and ask him for alms. But before he could get there, he died because of starvation. While the Prince of China was going horse-back riding, he found the necklace glinting in the sun. Without realizing that it would bring bad fortune to his whole dynasty, he wore it every day around his neck. And his whole dynasty ended because of one tiny necklace. After many years, a merchant from India found it and, mesmerized by its beauty, took it home for his daughter. He lost much money because of it. A rich man from America passed by the neck-lace one day and marveled at its beauty. Not knowing the eerie history of the necklace, he took it home for his wife. He also lost much money after buying it and almost became poor. He gave the necklace to the baseball fi nals trophy presenter so that he can give it along with the trophy. After he gave the necklace, he started recover-ing from his losses. The red and blue teams played the fi nal game. The team captain of the red team was Chris and the

captain of the blue team was Henry. Chris was up fi rst; he swung his bat with a powerful stroke and hit the ball with a smack. He ran, feeling the wind in his face lapping over him and urging him to run as fast as his legs would carry him. As he ran, he heard the cheering of the crowd and the pressure of his fans and -- guess what?-- his team won. His team said he could keep the trophy. He took the trophy in his hands and felt the smooth sur-face of the trophy. He showed it to his friends. Then he opened it and what did he fi nd but the necklace that had cost plenty of people trouble in the world for who knows how many years. All because of the genie and wizard fi ghting inside the necklace. So many innocent people suffered. Should we let this happen?

Sabrina Z

War

Chapter 1: Missions Launched “Okay,” I replied. “Good. First, go get info on their attack posi-tions. We must win the territory! Eva, follow Sabrina. Catherine, go with them.” Natasha told my group members. We set off with our spy tools. I took out my Spy DS, along with many different spy games, while Eva took out her fake spy coin. Out popped a hammer, screwdriver, fl ashlight, some nails in a box, wrench, comb, and scissors, all held in robotic and very, very rusty claws. Catherine took out her spy phone, with a teleport button, an HQ button, and connection with my DS. I popped in my ‘Info First’ game. As we got closer to the Spartan attack posi-tions, we Lancer Spies watched my screen. “Posi-tions found!” I looked. “Whoa, they’re right there!” I gasped. “Catherine, let’s go!” She pressed the HQ button on her phone. Off we went. “Good job,” Boss Natasha said, as we burst into the marble room. “Now, this is dangerous. Mis-sion X.” We all gasped in shock. No one had survived this mission. “If you succeed, you will be master spies, like me. Are you ready?” “Yes,” Eva squeaked. “Yes,” I muttered. Catherine said nothing at all. How would we live?

Chapter 2: Danger Ahead“To help you, I’m adding Opal to your team,”

Natasha continued. “She will help you break the Spartan formation, steal vital plans, and capture their leader.” Opal waved to me. She wore a grapple-belt, which had a button that, when pressed, could shoot a rope with a hook to something to help you climb. As we left again, Opal said humbly, “Hello, mission leader.” “Uh, no need,” I assured her. “How can we survive?” Catherine wondered. “Be careful?” I suggested. We traveled for another ten minutes. I gazed at the Spartan base entrance. “Okay,” I breathed, “time for a different game.” I slipped in the ‘Finder’ game. “Entrance found!” the game called. I looked at the diagram, pressed the tiny blue button on the wall, and a door slid open and... Slam! I hit the bottom. Ouch, I thought. Three thumps alerted me of the others. “Sabrina,” Opal asked, “are you okay?” “Yes...” I replied. “Eva, take out the fl ash-light.” I put in my ‘Flash Light’ game. We navigated through the warm, stuffy tunnel. Finally, we were there, at a locked door that said ‘Plan Room,’ along with a number keypad.

Chapter 3: Pass Word We heard voices from above. Opal stiffened, and we all quieted down. “...never fi gure out the button and trapdoor!” “...course, we’ll win! They’re clueless to the fact the code to Plan Room is 1014!” As the leader and deputy’s voices faded away, Opal punched in: 1014. The door swung open, and the lights came on. Eva snatched a paper on the table. She checked it with the date of the war and came back. We all went back to HQ, and Natasha said, “Third of the way done. Break their formation. And hurry...” We did.

Clare J

A Theatrical Surprise

“Et tu, Brutus?” my dad moaned. Then he dra-matically dropped to the fl oor with a swish, curled in a ball, and placed his hand over his heart in the center of his chest where his character, Julius Caesar, was sup-posed to have been stabbed. “And, scene.” As my mother and brother clapped, he stood up and bowed. It was Family Theater Night. Dad was doing a dramatic death scene from Shakespeare’s Ju-lius Caesar. Hi. My name is Elphaba and right away you can probably tell I have weird parents. Well, you see, they loved the name from Wicked and wanted to name their daughter Elphaba. At least I’m not green. Everyone in my family is a theater geek. We were at the mall one day when my dad started recit-ing a speech from A Midsummer Night’s Dream just because his favorite store was having a forty percent off sale. We’re not allowed in that mall anymore. My brother would rather dance than play soc-cer, and my mom spent all the money her relatives gave her for Christmas on Broadway tickets. That’s why I was shocked when, as I calmly read a gossip magazine in the family room, my dad said, “Hello Elphie,” calling me by my annoying nickname. “As you know, when your brother, Marius,

turned thirteen, we took him on a trip to celebrate. Since you are turning thirteen next week, we’re going to take you on a trip. That’s why we’re going camp-ing!” he exclaimed.

Uh oh.

Dani K (grade 7)

Just Candy

Zandar walked into Fuzziwig’s Candy Factory with her mother and brother, Charlie, whom she had just tried to ditch in Aero. She also tried to run, but her skinny body wasn’t made for that. “Zandar! Stop right there young lady,” said her mother. Zandar’s mom, Phoebe, had long, black, wavy hair just like Zandar, only Phoebe’s was in a messy bun. Oh crap, thought Zandar. “How could you run away from us like that? I was going to call the police! And right after I bought you a fi fty dollar jacket!” yelled Phoebe, grabbing Zandar’s jacket collar. She must be really mad, thought Zandar. “All I want is some Altoids. Okay?” said Zan-dar, clearly annoyed. “Fine. One small pack. That’s it. Come on Charlie; we’re leaving,” said Phoebe, hauling Char-lie away from his favorite candy, gummy snakes and spiders. Moping, Charlie followed. Zandar bought a

by students entering...

Grade 6

small pack of Altoids, jammed them in her new jacket pocket, thanked the clerk, and stalked after her fraz-zled mother and ‘goody-two-shoes’ brother. I’m in so much trouble, thought Zandar as she walked toward her mom’s convertible. Her mom and Charlie got in quickly and hit the ‘close the roof’ but-ton. The roof closed all around them. By the time Zandar got to the car, there was a torrential downpour. Her new jacket was still warm, but soaked. Here it comes she thought. To her surprise, her mother didn’t yell at her. “I’m very disappointed in you. How could you give me such a scare?” said her mother in a tone almost as low as a whisper. “I almost screamed until I saw you slip into a crowd.” “I’m sorry,” said Zandar. “I shouldn’t have done that. Thanks for the jacket.” She hugged herself inside the still-soaked jacket. “You’re welcome. You know I still love you, don’t you honey? But sometimes you drive me crazy! Why is it always so diffi cult to be with you? All in all, I still love you,” Phoebe said. “Sorry,” said Zandar, tears in her eyes. Real tears, not the fake ones Charlie always used to get his way. He would jut out his lower lip, put his hands together, make his big blue eyes even bigger, and start to whimper. “Apology accepted,” said her mom. She had sadness in her eyes like the barrier holding all her tears was about to break, but she took a deep breath and looked back at the road. A small noise came from the back, almost sounding like a stammered, “But, but-”. Charlie burst into tears for no reason at all. Zandar thought it was because she got off easy. The rest of the car ride home was silent except for a little bit more of Charlie’s crying. Zandar was still scared to face her father. When she walked into the living room, her dad was waiting for her. She ate an Altoid at the same moment he opened his mouth and... BANG!

Shagun K

My Day at the Chess Tournament

As my sister, my dad and I drove to the All-Girls Championship, my brain was frantically think-ing, Can I make it? Can I win fi rst place? Those were questions that only fate could decide. Finally, we reached the building. I walked across the gray, rough parking lot and entered the cool, gray building. There were some girls that I recognized. I recognized one girl who was brilliant at chess; her name was Alena Huang. The moment I saw her I knew I couldn’t win fi rst place, but I didn’t give up. Then it was time for the fi rst round. When I entered the playing area, the fi rst thing that caught my eye were the shiny pink trophies with golden knights on top. I looked longingly at the tallest one. Maybe, just maybe, I could win it. As soon as I started to play my game, all I could hear was the tapping of chess pieces moving across the board. I won the fi rst three rounds. Then I had lunch. It didn’t really taste right. Then it was time for the fourth round. I was feeling a bit more confi dent this time. In this round, I was playing a girl called Emily Chiesa. The game went well until suddenly I made a horrible blunder. My queen was gone. I started to sweat and thought, What am I going to do, sweat. Will I get fi rst place? My dreams were already starting to fl oat away, but I still fought. After a few minutes I offered her a draw, but she didn’t accept. Surprisingly, she wasn’t using her queen fi ercely, like I thought she would. A few min-utes later... POW! I captured her queen. Happiness and hope started to fl ow in me. A few minutes later, “Checkmate.” I won! Then I happily marked my score and ran out of the room. My next opponent was... Alena Huang. I knew I would lose, but I didn’t give up hope. In the fi rst ten moves she captured my queen. And a minute later I was checkmated. I had won all my games except that one. About fi fteen minutes later the trophies were going to be handed out. As the trophy ceremony started, I was thinking, Would I become fi rst?

Rayna K

An Excerpt from a Short Story

Hello. My name is Stephanie Jackson. I’m eleven years old. The wind blew through my wavy, blond hair. My storm-grey eyes matched the sky. It was thundering and lightning out. My swimsuit was soaked from my swim and my feet were caked with sand from the beach. I saw a fl ash of lightning and heard a roar of thunder. Then, a huge wave hit the rocks and a small shell washed up on the beach. I picked it up. There was a fl ash of blue and grey light. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospi-tal bed. The hospital was like any other, but the people all looked the same. They all had the same light blond hair, stunning light blue eyes, and a perfect, blinding smile. The name of the place, Apollo Health Industry, would startle most normal people. “Well Stephanie, it looks like you’ve woken up,” the doctor said. “Apollo?” I asked. “Yeah. Daddy got a bit mad, didn’t he?” Apollo asked. “Yeah. How did I get here?” “Me.” “You?”

“I’m the God of the Sun. When I travel, I see things.” “I knew that you were the God of Healing, but I never knew that you had your own hospitals and doctors’ offi ces. Are all the doctors and nurses in the world your kids?” “Yeah, Stephanie, I’m going to send you home, but I want you to do yourself a favor. Watch out for my sister, Artemis. She’s been cranky after some of her Hunters died on a hunting trip and she may want a new one.” * * * * When I got home I found a letter on my bed. It was a birthday card from Mt. Olympus. The card was from Zeus and Hera. Yeah, I said Zeus and Hera. Most people think that the Greek gods and goddesses aren’t real, but they are and they have been for over two thousand years.

Athena and Poseidon are my grandparents. In Greek mythology, Athena and Poseidon don’t really get along. But the only reason that they are my grand-parents is because Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase are my parents. Thanks to Athena and Poseidon, I excel in school. The only reason Zeus zapped me was because I found my birthday present. The shell was from Zeus, Poseidon, and Athena. Zeus isn’t a big fan of the kids of Poseidon and Hades going up into his realm. The shell was like a safety pass if I were to fl y. If I needed help I would talk into the shell and ask either Poseidon or Athena for help. Depending whose help I asked for, I would either get a sand-dollar or an owl with a scroll with an answer on it. The next day I would be leaving Albany, New York to go to my favorite place in the world: Camp Half-Blood. Let’s just say that it’s the safest place in the world for people like me.

Madeline M

A Collection of Haiku Riddle Poems

Sly and quick and fastOrange, black, white, yellow, spottedRunning scared always Cat

Tiny, small, big, biggestBrown and white, black and spottedAlways there with you Dog

Ring-tailed, masked, black beastsGarbage eaters all aroundBlack and white fatties Raccoon

Skeleton so fi neYellow and red and orangeAlways here with us Leaves

Brown ready to beCut them down day after dayConsider them ugly Tree stump

Falling to the groundDrip by drip and drop by dropThen fi nally STOP Waterfalls

Fighting to grow, moveGrowing tall, growing up, strongGreen and brown and red Tree

So clear to see throughDifferent rims of colorsPurple, pink, and red Glasses

Smooth, rough, or jaggedBlack and white, red and spottedEverywhere, always Rock

Wood and sticks and leavesRed and yellow, orange and blueBig...better...biggest... Fire

Madeline M and Anne R

My Coach

My dear coach Who is no smarter than a roach.

At baseball he says, forget your gloves.At soccer he says, just kick the ball.If you’re not tall, don’t bother playing basketball.In swimming he says, I don’t care what the butterfl y is, just wiggle!In horseback riding it doesn’t matter what you do.Click to move your foot, whatever, just make it move.In archery he says, forget about your aim.Oops big mistake!In tennis he says, just get it over the net.In hockey he says, just hit the darn round thing!In volleyball he says, who cares about your position.

I love my dear coachWho is no smarter than a roach.

Sarah S

Catching Snakes

Jules was scared. Deeply scared. Everything was twisted around today. He loved Saturdays, he loved his cousin, and he loved the lake. But, appar-ently, he did not love this combination. “Come on, Jules, it’s not like they’re going to wrap around you, squeeze you ‘til you can’t breathe, suddenly pierce your skin with their fangs...” Robert’s teasing was not helping at all. Jules’ cousin had towed him down to the swampy area of the lake to catch snakes. “Stop it, Rob. You know I don’t like snakes. Why are you making me do this?” Rob snorted. “Because you need a little man-nin’ up, kid.” With this, he bounded towards the lake, Jules reluctantly following. How are we going to catch snakes, Jules thought, without nets or traps or anything? Robert seemed to read his mind. “You may be wondering,” he broke the silence, “how this is going to work.” The scent of freshly cut grass disappeared as they neared the muddy bank. “It is really very simple. You fi nd a snake, grab it just below the head so it can’t

bite you, put another hand a bit lower on its body, and twist,” Rob demonstrated with teeth clenched in strain, lunging forward to fi nish off the nonexistent snake, and slipping and falling into the mud. Despite his fear, Jules laughed. The swamp was a muggy, secretive setting. Wide, sad willows blocked the sun from above. It smelled of rotting vegetation. The bank, consisting of mud and dead leaves, melted into water tinted brown, black and green. It was diffi cult to determine where one ended and the other began. Robert waded into the mess without a second thought. Jules was more hesitant to enter this forebod-ing, unexplored cove of Lake Erie. Eerie -- the name fi t well. Eventually, Jules worked up the courage to follow his daring cousin. A few steps into the water, he felt something pulling him down. Scaly, slimy tentacles wrapped around his legs. Jules fought and kicked, but to no avail. He heard his cousin also strug-gling, and with a swoosh of water, thick with fear, Rob was pulled under. Jules tried to yell for help, but his piercing screams were muffl ed by the water, sucking him in, taking him... The next day, missing persons signs were posted for cousins Julian and Robert Williams. They were never found.

Grace S

The Many Adventures of Joshua Reed

When my brother, Josh, was a baby, he was dropped on his head. When he was two, he bit my mom on the arm, leaving a scar. When he was seven, he was sent to the principal’s offi ce for telling his fi rst grade teacher she needed a nose job. Now my brother is nineteen and, well, things haven’t changed. This story is about some of Josh’s latest adventures. It was a hot sticky North Carolina morning in mid-June and my parents were both leaving for work. Josh and I were staying home. My older brother was supposed to be fi nding a job, seeing as he still lived at home. Mom says it because he’s too attached to leave, but dad says it’s because he’s too lazy to get off his butt and fi nd some work. But, of course, Josh had other plans. He was building a doghouse for our golden-doodle, Carolina.

He was hammering and sawing out in the backyard, wiping sweat from his brow, when he de-cided to come in for a drink. You see, my brother lacks a little thing called common sense. He somehow didn’t see that he had Gorilla Glue all over his hand. When he grabbed onto the fridge handle, he got stuck. “Piper!” Josh screamed “What?” I stuck my head out of my bedroom to look at him with my bright green eyes. My long auburn hair was braided to the side. “Um, I, well,” he stammered, his pale face turning a bright shade of pink. “I glued my hand to the fridge,” he muttered, obviously embarrassed to confi de in his 12-year-old sister. I burst out laughing so hard my sides hurt. “You dimwit,” I choked out. “How did you manage that?” “Never mind, just help me,” he said, obviously annoyed. “I don’t know what to do,” I said indignantly. “It’s not every day some idiot glues his hand to the fridge!” I burst out laughing again. “Shut up and call the doctor!” he yelled. “Hello, how may I help you?” the too-cheerful voice of the nurse came through the phone. “Um, hi,” I said. “I’m calling because my brother...well, he glued his hand to the fridge.” I heard the nurse stifl e a laugh before she continued. “I’m sorry, now how did this happen?” After I retold the story, the nurse told me that some nail polish remover would get rid of the glue. Once I hung up, I ran to the bathroom to get some nail polish remover and we poured it over Josh’s hand. The nurse was right; the glue came off really easily. When Josh’s hand was fi nally free, he muttered a “Thanks,” and ran back outside to fi nish his dog house. So, that just goes to show you that sometimes Josh is better at using his hands than his head.

Ethan S

Fire and Ice

The dull thuds of Tom’s fi ngers drumming against the smooth plastic table added to the feeling of boredom that emanated from the low-ceilinged white room. Nothing in the room was natural. Everything was exact, from the distance between each chair in the visitor lobby--in one of which Tom was sitting-- and the artifi cial smell of air freshener that lingered in the air, to the books and magazines on the table. Even the fake wax plant in the corner seemed to be squared away and perfect. The tapping of the secretary’s fi ngers against the pearly white keyboard drew him back from his reverie. His eyes landed on the only seemingly natu-ral thing in the room: a small red Lego brick. He was amazed they still made those things; then again, it was still man-made. Tom wanted dearly to scream, but before he could unleash the guttural howl from between his lips, the telephone rang. Only one ring escaped the speak-ers before the secretary answered it. After a few mo-ments she said in her calm and perfect voice, “Okay, I’ll send him in.” She placed the phone on the cradle and said, “Tom Hatchett?” “Yes.” “Mr. Hatchett requests your presence.” “Right on cue,” Tom muttered under his breath as the clock struck noon. The two solid metal doors at the far end of the offi ce opened, and he stepped into the room. This room was the same as the last except it had a large fl oor-to-ceiling window on the left wall. He briefl y glanced out the window to look for some-thing natural to keep his sanity, but all it showed was the Manhattan skyline outside. Frustrated, he took a seat across from a large mahogany desk. Yes! Finally something natural, he thought, but his excitement was short lived. The wood was smooth, polished and looked nothing like the tree it used to be. The swivel chair behind the desk rotated to reveal a man with high cheekbones, sharp features and slicked back jet-black hair, unlike the soft features and blond hair of Tom. As the chair completed it’s rotation the gold nametag on the desk gleamed with the words: William R Hatchett, CEO of Hatchett Oil.

“So, what do you want, Father?” Tom sneered, putting a nasty emphasis on “father.” “I have called you here to make a proposal,” William said, ignoring Tom’s icy tone. Tom could not help but notice how William looked young but had a great amount of age in his voice. “I want you to take my place as CEO of Hatchett Oil.” Tom was stunned, but he recovered quickly. “Why would I want to lead your company?” he spat out. Keeping a calm voice, William replied. “Do you know how much money I get every day? Five thousand dollars. Five thousand dollars!” At the last words he raised his voice. “Never” Tom yelled.

Madeline T

Untitled

The cliff was tall, as tall as three elephants stacked on top of each other. It smelled like elephants, too. It felt rough and scratchy; I cut my fi nger on a sharp rock. “Maybe we could climb up the rocks?” Ani Uni suggested. I put my weight on my right foot, and put it on the lowest rock. It crumbled instantly, leading my foot back onto the ground. Dust fl ew up my nose, and some dirt got stuck in my long, brown hair. “Well, maybe Luma could fl oat up to fi nd some rope, and throw the end down so we can climb up it.” Rosa said with more pride than a lion. “Not bad, but what if he can’t fi nd any? Or, worse yet, what if he doesn’t come back?” I knew I was listing worst case scenarios, but it was necessary, I guess. Rosa didn’t think so, though, because she was shaking her head so much that her silky blonde hair was loosening out of her neat ponytail. “Then we come up with something else and go rescue him. I say we give it a shot. Are you with me?” Ani Uni asked, putting one of her small hooves out. Rosa put her hand out too; even Luma put his hand out, and his life was being risked. I had no choice. “Fine, but if it doesn’t work, I told you so!” “Then I’ll poke you with my horn!” Ani Uni threatened. I looked at her sharp, shiny, silver horn. For a baby unicorn, Ani Uni was pretty tough. “All right,” I said, giving in.

So, Luma fl oated up and onto the cliff, where we couldn’t see him anymore, while we waited. An hour later, the sun was setting and he still wasn’t back. Rosa took the emergency tent out of her pack, while Ani Uni and I went back into Amchester Woods to look for twigs to put in the fi re. After searching for a while, we got tired. With only a few twigs collected, we leaned by a tree to rest. But as I leaned, the tree bark pushed in. I straightened up and turned around as the bark slid to the side to reveal a secret elevator. “Whoa!” I said, as Ani Uni started galloping back to the cliff. “Quick! We need to go get Rosa!” she called to me. “You go get her, I’ll stay here!” I called back.

Maeve W

The Waterskiing Accident

Twelve-year-old Lily Lorato dove into the lake at her family cottage. The mid-July water chilled her for a moment and then she warmed up. She swept her long, blonde curls off her face as she swam to get her water skis. She scrambled her foot into one and then the other. She grabbed the rope and proceeded into chair position with confi dence. She had done this same routine over 50 times and no doubts crossed her mind. “You ready?” her mom asked from the boat. “Almost!” yelled Lily. She stretched her shoulders yelling, “Hit it!” Lily was up within fi ve seconds. She started with a sharp turn and then a one hander. Pretty soon she was twisting and turning all over. This was her best run ever. She skimmed gracefully across the water. Her blue eyes twinkled in the sun and her pale skin shimmered. She made a very sharp turn and closed her eyes; it felt like she was fl ying! When she opened them her mom was making a cut sign; slipping her hand by her throat. Lily wondered why her mom would have wanted to have her quit on such a great run. Then she saw why... A small green Jet Ski came out of nowhere, driven by a very crazy driver. Lily started to panic. She was terrifi ed. The Jet Ski was racing toward her! Fear had taken over her body and she couldn’t think. Luckily, the boat seemed to think for her. Her mother, driving the boat, made a sharp and fast turn. But not sharp and fast enough.

Lily’s body crashed onto the Jet Ski as the rope fl ew out of her hands. Her whole body was throbbing with pain. Her legs hit the bottom of the Jet Ski and her back hit the side. Lily screamed as she toppled off the Jet Ski. She fell on her skis and her left leg hit the blade of one. Blood gushed out of it rapidly. She no longer had strength. Her head toppled backwards into the water. Water was getting up her nose and in her throat. She was choking, maybe drowning. She tried to grip the Jet Ski, but it was no use. She no longer had strength. Lily fell back. Her head hurt. Her back couldn’t hold her up. Her leg was all pain. The last thing she could remember was her mother’s scream ...

...at the Wilson Center

...at the Marian Center