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46th Annual SoMIRAC Conference

Contest AnthologyCelebrating Maryland’s

Young Authors

Literacy: Changing Minds, Changing Lives

AcknowledgementsThank you for the privilege of working with participants in the 2017 -

2018 SoMIRAC Young Authors’ Contest. After a review of each student’s entry, our panels of impartial judges selected the top two entries in each category at each grade level as state winners. We now proudly present this anthology of winning entries.

On behalf of SoMIRAC, we congratulate the participants. Students, you continue to amaze us with your skills. We thank parents and teachers for their guidance, support, and instruction to these exceptional readers and writers. Your dedication helped produce the exemplary pieces of writing in this anthology.

We appreciate our guest authors, David Bierdzycki and April Henry, for imparting words of wisdom to our students. Your testimonies and tips will likely motivate the students to refine their skills as they continue writing. We hope you recognize some of their names in publication in the near future.

We especially thank all local council Young Authors’ Contest chairpersons who, together with their committees, selflessly gave of their time to read and judge hundreds of local entries. We applaud your dedication to promoting reading and writing literacy to the children of Maryland. Our students get the recognition they deserve because of YOU.

Rachele Corpuz Shirley W. FaulknerSandy Thrappas Leslie SunderlandCo-Chairs, Young Authors’ Contest Co-Chairs, Young Authors’ ContestElementary and Middle Schools, Grades 2 – 8 High School, Grades 9 – 12

State of Maryland InternationalReading Association Council 2017 – 2018 Officers

PresidentNatalie Stephenson

[email protected]

President-ElectLisa Lowe

[email protected]

First Vice PresidentShirley W. Faulkner

[email protected]

Second Vice President Judi A. Hunter

[email protected]

Co-State CoordinatorBonnie Schmeltz

[email protected]

Co-State CoordinatorMary Lou Nelson

[email protected]

Conference CoordinatorGayle Glick

[email protected]

Recording SecretaryJennifer Osborne

[email protected]

Corresponding Secretary

mailto:[email protected]








Chelley [email protected]

Membership DirectorAnn Apple

[email protected]

TreasurerRita Gaudiello

[email protected]

Past PresidentDeb Tobin

[email protected]





TABLE OF CONTENTS

POETRY – 1st and 2nd Place Winners

Grade 21st Place Winner

THE LIGHT OF THE FIREFLIES, by Kaiden Murdock 1Frederick County Reading Council

Parkway Elementary SchoolMrs. Susan Shankle

2nd Place Winner CONSTELLATIONS AT NIGHT, by Owen Dalwadi2

Howard County Reading CouncilSt. Johns Lane Elementary School

Mrs. Sarah Fauver


BEST FRIENDS, by Lana Field 3Anne Arundel County Reading Council

Piney Orchard Elementary SchoolMrs. N. Guernsey

2nd Place Winner COURAGE, by Jackson DeNichilo 4

Harford County Reading CouncilYouth’s Benefit Elementary School

Mrs. Melissa MartsoukosGrade 4

1st Place Winner ONE DEED, ONE STEP, ONCE SECOND, by Isca Alo 5

Frederick County Reading CouncilTuscarora Elementary School

Mrs. Meagan Fogle2nd Place Winner

FIREWORKS by Celia Anthony 6Carroll County Reading Council

Linton Springs Elementary SchoolMrs. K. M. Smith


RAINBOW, by Jaidan Davis 7Eastern Shore Reading Council

Pocomoke Middle SchoolMs. Megan Muir

2nd Place Winner CHANGE, by Zoe Spry 8

Harford County Reading CouncilMeadowvale Elementary School

Mrs. Ruth OrfGrade 6

1st Place Winner HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, by Jaansi Parsa 9

Harford County Reading CouncilBel Air Middle School

Mrs. Joan Aburn2nd Place Winner

THE SUN IS A FOLLOWER, by Jamie Tranquill 10Upper Shore Reading Council

Stevensville Middle SchoolMs. Kelly Nash


CHANGE BY THE MINUTE, by Jordan Brady 11Anne Arundel County Reading Council

Wiley H. Bates Middle School Ms. Valerie Pieper

2nd Place Winner I HAVE A HARD TIME LETTING GO OF DAYDREAMS, by Riley Richardson 12

Harford County Reading CouncilNorth Harford Middle School

Ms. Stephanie LandramGrade 8

1st Place Winner ZOOM, by Zoe Barbour 13

Anne Arundel County Reading CouncilSevern River Middle School

Mrs. L. Arditti2nd Place Winner

WANDERLUST, by Kimberly Noelle Gordon 14Howard County Reading Council

Lime Kiln Middle SchoolMrs. Cynthia Clemens


NO TURNING BACK, by Raekiya Beckett 15Eastern Shore Reading Council

Pocomoke High SchoolDr. Aimee Bergonia

2nd Place Winner HUMANITY’S FATE, by Tomisin Fasosin 16

Howard County Reading CouncilMarriotts Ridge High School

Ms. Robin GreyGrade 10

1st Place Winner POCKETS, by Katherine Beck 17

Harford County Reading CouncilBel Air High School

Mr. Jason Taylor2nd Place Winner

THE LIFE OF A YEAR, by Harper Ronayne 19Upper Shore Reading Council

Kent Island High SchoolMs. Lianna Bennett


TO WRITE, NEVERMORE, by Marcus Parson 20Frederick County Reading Council

Oakdale High School Mrs. Julia Showalter

2nd Place Winner ALIENS, by Eunice Huesca 21

Eastern Shore Reading CouncilStephen Decatur High School

Mrs. Lee TerlizziGrade 12

1st Place Winner MORE THAN WHAT MEETS THE EYE, by Rachael Walker 22

Eastern Shore Reading CouncilWicomico High School

Mrs. Shannon Hinman VANDALISM REVISITED, by Isabelle Anderson 23

Carroll County Reading CouncilWinters Mill High School

Mrs. Denise Frazier2nd Place Winner

STUTTERS, by River Feltner 24Frederick County Reading Council

Catoctin High SchoolMr. Russ Headley & Ms. Katherine Mills

SHORT STORIES – 1st and 2nd Place Winners


HOW THE PRINCE DEFEATED THE DRAGON, by Bilal Nooruddin 26Howard County Reading Council

Pointers Run Elementary SchoolMrs. Stephanie Nasir

2nd Place Winner THE DETECTIVE TWINS AND THE CASE OF THE FRIENDLY GHOST, by Landon

Marc Rosenberg 28Frederick County Reading Council

Tuscarora Elementary SchoolMs. Paula Silvey


ALONE, by Ellery Nstalski 29Harford County Reading Council

Emmorton Elementary SchoolMrs. Cynthia Kacher

2nd Place Winner YAY, I LOST, by Oliver Lineberger 30

Anne Arundel County Reading CouncilWaugh Chapel Elementary School

Mrs. S. Kyte


A LEAF OF LOVE, by Siana Ami Kabaria 31Howard County Reading Council

Clarksville Elementary SchoolMrs. Hilary Becker

2nd Place Winner LILA’S ROBOT, by Noa Petke 32

Frederick County Reading CouncilParkway Elementary School

Mr. Robert Wolfe


ECLIPSE, by Sofia Moore 33Frederick County Reading Council

Kemptown Elementary SchoolMrs. Lindsay Wildasin

2nd Place Winner MOONLIT, by Natalie Wallace 34

Baltimore County Reading CouncilHillcrest Elementary School

Mrs. Joan McCartanGrade 6

1st Place Winner KNOW HOW TO GROW, by Molly C. Holthaus 35

Upper Shore Reading CouncilCentreville Middle School

Ms. Karen Fields2nd Place Winner

SILK, by Eva Thompson 36Carroll County Reading Council

Oklahoma Road Middle SchoolMrs. J. Abbot


A SOLDIER’S PARADOX, by Ellie Hasegawa 39Howard County Reading Council

Lime Kiln Middle SchoolMrs. Melissa V. Preston

2nd Place Winner THE ONES IN THE WOODS, by Maggie Bourne 41

Anne Arundel County Reading CouncilMagothy River Middle School

Ms. Sara CarrGrade 8

1st Place Winner SCENE FROM A BEACH, by Madeline Blattau 44

Carroll County Reading CouncilOklahoma Road Middle School

Mr. Max Erman2nd Place Winner

UNTITLED, by Rheya Rodriguez 46Upper Shore Reading Council

Stevensville Middle SchoolMs. Kelly Nash


BEAUTIFUL ENDINGS, by Sophia Smith 48Eastern Shore Reading Council

James M. Bennett High SchoolMrs. Teresa McCain

2nd Place Winner WILLIAM, by Ella Tomko 52

Anne Arundel County Reading CouncilBroadneck High School

Ms. M. GirouxGrade 10

1st Place Winner THE THIRD CHILD, by Christian Due 53

Frederick County Reading CouncilOakdale High School

Mrs. Julia Showalter2nd Place Winner

HERE THE OLD HOUSE LAY, by Katie Monaghan 57Harford County Reading Council

C. Milton Wright High SchoolMs. Sarah Malesh


ARTIFACT 2200.8.16, by Lyra Houghton 59Upper Shore Reading Council

Queen Anne’s County High SchoolMs. Laurie Elben

2nd Place Winner THE SUM OF OUR DEEDS, by Parker Crandall 62

Anne Arundel County Reading CouncilBroadneck High School

Mrs. M. GirouxGrade 12

1st Place Winner TONES, by Breanna Genter 63

Harford County Reading CouncilHarford Technical High School

Mrs. Tammy Taylor2nd Place Winner

MANDATORY KINDNESS, by Anna Borisova 66Frederick County Reading Council

Oakdale High SchoolMrs. Julia Showalter

Poetry1st and 2nd Place

Winners

Poetry2nd Grade

1st Place Winner

THE LIGHT OF THE FIREFLIES

Fireflies, fireflies kindle your light.

Fireflies, fireflies shining so bright,

But now it’s time to say goodnight.

They fly to bed, out of sight.

Fireflies, fireflies sleep so tight.

KAIDEN MURDOCKParkway Elementary School

Mrs. Susan ShankleFrederick County Reading Council

1

Poetry2nd Grade

2nd Place Winner

CONSTELLATIONS AT NIGHT

Draco, Dipper, Bull and Lion, Cassiopeia,Cepheus and Orion. Can you guess

what they are?They are pictures made by stars.

Constellations shine at night,Constellations, what a sight!

The easiest one for me to spotis the Big Dipper with its even dots.

The pointers direct you to theNorth Star.

Oh, what a sight they are!My favorite is Cassiopeia, the queen,

A starry W is how she is seen.

OWEN DALWADISt. Johns Lane Elementary School

Ms. Sarah FauverHoward County Reading Council

2

Poetry3rd Grade

1st Place Winner

BEST FRIENDS

Best friends can be tricky,Sometimes things can turn out icky.

You’re friendsNot just because of a bracelet

Or a locketOr a card,

You’re friendsWhen they help you when it’s hard

They clear you a pathWhen things are getting rocky.

Even if they’re far away,They are in your heart.

Best friends may be tricky,But in the end they’re like family.

LANA FIELDPiney Orchard Elementary School

Mrs. N. GuernseyAnne Arundel County Reading Council

3

Poetry3rd Grade

2nd Place Winner

COURAGECourage is when you’re scared of something but don’t hideYou could be scared of your own basement without lights

Just simply go inside,Courage is when you must stand up to a bully

If your little brother is getting picked onYou must express your feelings fully,

Courage is when you must investigate the clatterYou walk slowly up the stairs

And find that there is no matter,Courage is when you the new kid and say “hello”

Some may ignore you others may respondSometimes you just have to go with the flow

That is what I think courage is

JACKSON DENICHILOYouth’s Benefit Elementary School

Mrs. Melissa MartsoukosHarford County Reading Council

4

Poetry4th Grade

1st Place Winner

ONE DEED, ONE STEP, ONE SECOND

When you do a kind deed, then you take a step, your foot hits the grass, which hits dirt, which hits rocks, which hits hotter rocks, and finally hits the center of the earth, which is gently touched.

Positive waves from the deed expand, and become open to the world.

Because one small deed, has a big part,

in making the world a better place.

ISCA ALOTuscarora Elementary School

Mrs. Meagan FogleFrederick County Reading Council

5

Poetry4th Grade

2nd Place Winner

FIREWORKS

The grass is swishing,Humans are waiting,

Waiting in silence,Dew drops from the grass,

Marking the secondsMinutes

A silver streak shootsUpUp

Into the sky, whereIt plays a note on

A starry drum.Another streak whizzes by,

RisingRising toward the moon,

Exploding in color and sound,Clouding the stars,

While the grass is swishing

CELIA ANTHONYLinton Springs Elementary

Mrs. K. M. Smith

6

Carroll County Reading Council

7

Poetry5th Grade

1st Place Winner

RAINBOW

Droplets of water descend from thegray sky.

The sun hides behind the clouds.Hours pass.

The drumming of the rain on the rooflightens at last.

The sun peers through the clouds.The light floods everything from

miles around.I near a new sound.

The singing of birds and faint laughterfill the air.

Puddles dry reversing back to the sky.I look above as my heart fills with joy

and glee.A collision of vibrant colors fill the sky.

A rainbow; the most beautifulart for the eye.

JAIDAN DAVISPocomoke Middle School

Ms. Megan MuirEastern Shore Reading Council

8

Poetry5th Grade

2nd Place Winner

CHANGE

Change, change, changeIt’s in the air, it’s in the groundBoulder to pebble, young to old

Change is there, no matter where

Change is bad when it hurtswhen your grandmother needs a nurseShe starts to drift far away from youShe forgets... and your pain is true

Change is good if you make itjust like new friends with each visit

A smile, a chuckle, a twinkleA knock knock joke that tickles

Change for the life that’s strongMakes things different, not wrong

A new normal comes to passDon’t get comfy it won’t last

Change comes again full colorLike a butterfly from a caterpillar

Don’t look away you’ll miss itIt’s not always easy but it’s worth it

ZOE SPRYMeadowvale Elementary School

Mrs. Ruth OrfHarford County Reading Council

9

Poetry6th Grade

1st Place Winner

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS

Sometimes,I stare into space.

And my mindsprouts wings,

and goes up, up, up.My head goes into the clouds.

And I see,things I would never see on land.

But that’s okay,because I see them up there.

Then someone reminds me that I’m still on Earth,so my consciousness returns to land…but with my head still in the clouds.

JAANSI PARSABel Air Middle School

Mrs. Joan Aburn

10

Harford County Reading Council

11

Poetry6th Grade

2nd Place Winner

THE SUN IS A FOLLOWERThe sun is a follower,

I know he is, Wherever I go, there he is

I’d say we’re best pals, But he only thing is,

he likes some other gals, And I’m not the only friend of his

The sun is a follower, I see it, I do,

he sneaks around like a spy,Behind the trees and clouds, It’s the little game we play,

Try not and find me while I sneak away, I like the sun,

I really do, But if I keep looking at him

he’ll blind me too!

.

JAMIE TRANQUILLStevensville Middle School

Ms. Kelly NashUpper Shore Reading Council

12

Poetry7th Grade

1st Place Winner

CHANGE BY THE MINUTE

Text unavailable

JORDAN BRADYWiley H. Bates Middle School

Ms. Valerie PieperAnne Arundel County Reading Council

13

Poetry7th Grade

2nd Place Winner

I HAVE A HARD TIME LETTING GO OF DAYDREAMSDays adding up to weeks,

weeks adding up to months,months eventually adding up to years that fly by before I can even watch the digits

change.My body is slowly trudging up a flight of stairs,

each step an experience,while my mind takes the elevator of my imagination up into a pale pink,

cloud-surrounded world of what I love.The world of my daydreams.

Here I sit in class,carrying the weight of expectations,

personal life,grades,

schoolwork,homework – too many things to be named – all upon my back.All the while, my heart teams up with my dreams and desires

and begins to scheme my plan of perfect peace and happiness.Get a job that I love.

Get a house that I love.Be with someone that I love and loves me back.

Summary: have a good life.

RILEY RICHARDSONNorth Harford Middle School

Ms. Stephanie LandramHarford County Reading Council

14

Poetry8th Grade

1st Place Winner

ZOOM

Mankind.One speck.

A blot of ink upon a vast expanse of paper.A single drop within a hurricane.One speck.On one planet.Circling one star which is but a pinprick of light upon the darkness of the universe.One speck.Small.Tiny.A single moment within the vastness of time.

One speck.One blot of ink is all that Shakespeare started with.One spark ignites a raging wild fire. One speck.One freckle.Dancing with others within the solar system of a face.One speck. A beginning.An arising.One voice is all it takes to start a revolution.

One speck.

ZOE BARBOURSevern River Middle School

Mrs. L. Arditti

15

Anne Arundel County Reading Council

16

Poetry8th Grade

2nd Place Winner

WANDERLUST

The need to travel from this to that, from here to there.Bright eyes clouded by nostalgia for the familiar,

A heart pining for the wistful past.But a mind disgusted by the unimaginative inhabited lands,Dulled by a human need to conquer ever-changing nature.

A soul that feels a tugging deep within itselfTo break free to wander aimlessly,

To explore the unexplored,To roam where no mortal has dared venture,

Searching for pure, unadulterated nature.Trees clustered together with branches like fingers reaching up,

Stretching to an impossibly blue sky.Ocean waves crested with foaming white,

Crashing rhythmically against a jagged stone shore.Windswept hills with soft, green grass,

Blanketed by heavy, grey mist.Because where nature reigns,The drifting soul is anchored

But only for a momentUntil wanderlust calls.

KIMBERLY NOELLE GORDONLime Kiln Middle SchoolMrs. Cynthia Clemens

17

Howard County Reading CouncilPoetry

9th Grade1st Place Winner

Into the dark void I fellLike a sugar cube into a cup of black coffee

Falling deeper after an action that I cannot reverseA sin of the highest order

My Life replays, days with my friends,No, my family

Living our young lives to the fullestUntil it happened…

He was dead and we were extirpatedThe ground beneath our feet crumbling

One friend turned suicidal, one friend driven to insanityAnother friend in denial, the other coming to the reality of it all

Another trying his hardest to live a normal lifeAnd then there was me

On one shoulder, my father abusive to my sister, my mother, and IOn the other shoulder, one of my closest friends

The glue to our so called family,Was completely eradicated

Those weights on my shoulders were bringing me downI was brought into a darker place

After a while, I finally brokeHe hit my sister again and I couldn’t take it anymoreIt was the last straw that broke me in the worst way

And into the dark void I fellNumbness over coming me

I didn’t care what I did anymoreMy ground was gone

Then the realization washed over meBlood covered my hands and clothes

Regret filled my sensesWhat have I done?

RAEKIYA BECKETT

18

Pocomoke High SchoolDr. Aimee Bergonia

Eastern Shore Reading CouncilPoetry

9th Grade2nd Place Winner

HUMANITY’S FATE

Eyes blazing with fire.Hearts blackened with hate.

Mouths full of wretched words,that I struggled to take.

I was swallowed by their ignorance.Surrounded by fear and regret.

A piercing scream escaped my lips;a scream people were trained to forget.

I was left with my thoughts.They were all that remained;but even they betrayed me,

tainted by bitterness and rage.

I used to wonder why it happened.Why was this humanity’s fate?

How did we end up in this state?The answer is simple: The world only taught us to hate.

19

TOMISIN FASOSINMarriotts Ridge High School

Ms. Robin GreyHoward County Reading Council

Poetry10th Grade

1st Place Winner

POCKETS

Dear Fashion industries,PLEASE,

could I havea pair of pants

with real pockets?

I’ve seen what you do.You stictch lies on every pant leg.

Every swish of a needle is ripping awayanother object I can’t carry

directly on my body.

I know why you do it;because women will always carry purses.

All that makeup,the less-than-functional wallets,

stored with cute hand sanitizers andall the tissues they need to wipe

mascara and tears off their cheeks.Because their burdens

are heavier than a man’s.

They carry that makeup becausewithout it, our sex is stereotyped to look

‘tired,’ ‘too old,’ ‘too young.’They cannot afford to look less than perfect.

(But some men will still say,“You look better without any makeup.”)

Now, I’m not much of a woman,but to accommodate my body –

I wear the jeans that fit.I never again want to hear

anyone tell me to“just buy men’s jeans.”

And hide this gorgeous figureof mine with formless, style-less

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piece of fabric?Hell no!

I could tell you the cost of being a womanbut that’s not really where my identity lies,

as I care more about admiring themthan trying to become one.

A woman could give you an ideabut she could never truly

show you the costbecause her pockets barely hold a dime.

It would take ten women’s pocketsto amount to the worth of a man’s

because men will never carry purses –but what if one wanted to?

What if a man wanted makeupand cute hand sanitizers

and tissues to wipe away his tears?

Our pockets –stupid flaps in our clothing –

say so much about whatsociety expects us to be like:

Feminine, docile, purse-carrying women.Masculine, controlling, pocket-having men.

Why can’t we just be who we are?

Dear society,PLEASE,be better.

Let a man carry a cute purseif he wants to,

regardless of his masculinityand deep pockets.

PLEASE,remove the pressure of perfection

from the female half of the population.They’re beautiful enough –it’s time they realized it.

It’s time for everyone to walk aroundwith all the makeup they wish

or none at all,and with pockets deep enough

to hold all their dreams.

21

KATHERINE BECKBel Air High School

Mr. Jason TaylorHarford County Reading Council

Poetry10th Grade

2nd Place Winner

THE LIFE OF A YEAR

Out of a cold and dreary world, a small child was born,And a new world was born with her.

Life from life and the world freed from death,Vibrant flower buds and the small new leaves cover the earth.

She grew into young woman, bright and warm,Her hair long and wavy,

Her eyes as blue as the sea.Her bountiful energy was like an intense heat,

As she explored the beauty of the world around her.

She grew older and all else followed suit,The world and her hair had changed color,

And the leaves wrinkled with her.She watched them gently fall,

every hour of everyday more leaves had left their branches baren.

She had grown tired,Her hair white and soft,Her hands cold as ice.

And as the last dove had flown south,And the last leaf had fell upon the ground,

She rested under her white sheets,And breathed her final breath,

Concealing her beloved Earth in a bittersweet snow.

22

HARPER RONAYNEKent Island High School

Ms. Lianna BennettUpper Shore Reading Council

Poetry11th Grade

1st Place Winner

TO WRITE, NEVERMORE

Every nightly expedition, I lie in wait, my own submission. The lamplight joins my motley crew, shining o’er tired lines,

Head in hands—a common foe—a crumpled pile begins to grow.Desk brightened by a lunar glow—to better works these old eyes pine,To wondrous worlds of gilded page, in the likes of Lee or Stein.

Maybe just another line.

Back on the shelf the worn tomes go—the sum of all I’ll ever know,They record the minds of better men, of a better vine.

They’ll not show me the hallowed way, nor make my words dance and play,No, it needs to take shape of my own clay; It has to be mine.The page needs more—a soul—it’s got to shine.

Maybe just a few more lines.

Who can say why it leaves—the spark, the fire, the webs we weave,It takes time to mature, to ripen, to age like fine wine,

But I’ve not the patience, nor the time, I’m at the summit; There’s no more to climb.If I could snatch it back—I would—it’s prime, yet I still can’t seem to muster the spine,I need it back, the whetstone on which my life, I fine.

Please, give it just a few more lines.

Every morning reclamation, I curse my name, my sovereign nation. Sunlight peaks through unfettered blinds, shining upon newly minted lines,

Head stretched back—back sans bend—I know my time has come to end.Desk engulfed in solar blend—pages elucidated—as if a sign, To cease the inane scribbles, the scratches—the broken, slant rhyme.

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I think I can fit just one more line.

MARCUS PEARSONOakdale High SchoolMrs. Julia Showalter

Frederick County Reading Council

Poetry11th Grade

2nd Place Winner

ALIENS(Inspired by Jonathan Reed)

I am an alien.And I refuse to believe

we are free.I realize this may come as shock. but

"We came for a better life"is a lie, and

"We should get in line and wait our turn" In 30 years, I will tell my children that

coloris more important than

characterI tell you this:

once upon a time America was polylingual,

but this will not be true in my era America only speaks English,

My president tells me we bring drugs and crime and I do not conclude that

we are equal.In the future,

our families will be ripped apart.No longer can it be said that this is the land of the free.

It will be evident that we don't matter.

It is foolish to presume that

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we have a bright future.And all of this will come true unless we reverse it.

EUNICE HUESCAStephen Decatur High School

Mrs. Lee TerlizziEastern Shore Reading Council

Poetry12th Grade

1st Place Winner

MORE THAN WHAT MEETS THE EYE

I am melanin.Skin as rich as the ivory coast;

Nigerian-bred pride running thick and uncharted across my tongue.

I am golden stretch marks that lead to shapely hips;thick kinks and wide nostrils to finish it off.

black is all that I am.

I am feminine.curled lashes that reach out to touch the sky;

measured sand resting perfectly to curate my figure.

I am detail after detail pieced together individually to make a whole;soft skin and sweet scent to welcome in all.

female is all I am.

I am young.Naively spirited and doe-eyed;

viewing the world with a childlike curiosity.

I am evolved from all that existed before me;excited, yet untouched by the world.

Youthful is all I am.

The appearances;the snap judgements made with a small exchange;

the Outside peering within;

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form all you know about the world.About yourself.

I am more—more than the labels placed on me,

and I will not be caged in.

RACHAEL WALKERWicomico High SchoolMrs. Shannon Hinman

Eastern Shore Reading CouncilPoetry

12th Grade1st Place Winner

VANDALISM REVISITED

the graffiti has changedthough small town inhabitants with eyes jaded by sensory fatigue

do not notice the small ways she alters her appearancebefore them: replacement of chipping paint,

an additional name etched just beneath the bridge’s railing.they do not see her changes, the way

an ever-present odor turns to perfume.

time has a habit of making strangers of old friends.family members have their shared mantra,i cannot believe you’ve grown up so fast.

and it seems she should be saying this to me,the town that gripped me in its arms like a parent

and propped me up on my feet.

i wonder whether she’s scrubbed every inch of herself since then,the rain rinsing the pavement on which i skinned my knees-

every place i bled and cried wrapped up in her.from outside i cannot see whether my varying heights are still marked

on that door frame, horizontally striped white and graphite.

i wonder whether she sees the changes in me,that my hair now flirts with my waist, having grown far past

my shoulders which it had once only dusted,that the strength in my stride has changed, ever slightly,

from the timid shuffling i once did over her sidewalks.

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can she see the initials left cemented in my skinor the brighter topcoat i’ve covered myself in?

.

ISABELLE ANDERSONWinters Mill High School

Mrs. Denise FrazierCarroll County Reading Council

Poetry12th Grade

2nd Place Winner

STUTTERS

The only thing you wanted to fix,Was all of those stutters.

Your T’s became a string of christmas lightsRather than a simple lightbulb,

Your M’s became a paradeRather than an evening stroll,

To you your mouth slurred messYou wanted the simplicity-

And not having it was taking a toll.You began to speak less,

Each sentence filled with increasing stress.I enjoyed those stutters

They added more,And took away less.

27

RIVER FELTNERCatoctin High School

Mr. Russ Headley & Ms. Katherine MillsFrederick County Reading Council

28

Short Stories

1st and 2nd Place Winners

29

Short Story2nd Grade

1st Place Winner

HOW THE PRINCE DEFEATED THE DRAGON

Once upon a time, deep in the forest, there was a kingdom. Inside the kingdom lived a prince, who was always with his guards. They worked as a team, to protect the kingdom from any crimes. Together, they were UNSTOPPABLE! They were loved by the kingdom, kept everyone safe, and treated them with respect. However, one day, something terrible happened. When the guards were protecting the palace of the kingdom, they were attacked by a mysterious force. They were defeated and disappeared. The Prince became very worried about his friends. Days had passed, and he had not seen them. Finally, after a horrific and agonizing two days without his friends, the prince continued to look for the guards on his own. During his investigation, he heard a big, loud THUMP! He ran around the palace to see where the noise came from. He sought high and low – and did not find anything out of the ordinary. Then, he realized that he hadn’t yet checked the basement of the palace. When he went down the dark, spider webbed steps, he could not see anything at first. In the darkness, after not seeing anything, he started to go back upstairs. That is when he felt a chill up his spine, and a tap on his shoulder. The Prince was startled, and quickly turned around. In the darkness of the basement, he was able to see the criminal he had been looking for – however, it was beyond anything he could ever imagine. There, in front of him, stood a fierce, snarling DRAGON – larger than any he had ever seen before. “So, YOU are the one who took my friends!” said the prince. “Yes, indeed” said the dragon. “I have mind-controlled them, so now they are my minions!” “How could you!?” said the prince. “It was easy!” said the dragon. “All I had to do was to use one my latest inventions – the Hypnotizer 3000.” “What is that?” asked the Prince. I didn’t know Dragons had any machines.

“Don’t worry” said he Dragon. “You should never underestimate what dragons are capable of – and now YOU will be hypnotized!”

At this time, the Prince and the dragon had an epic battle. During this struggle for freedom against the evil Dragon – the Prince was able to quickly run around the basement, and avoid capture by the Dragon. This caused the dragon to become very tired – but finally, the Dragon’s opportunity came, as he was able to corner the Prince.

“You shall never escape now” said the Dragon.“Oh yeah?” said the prince, “Try to catch me NOW!” At that exact moment –

the prince multiplied into a thousand different princes! The Dragon was shocked and did not know what to do. He was seeking the REAL prince, but could not tell which one he was.

“How did you multiply?” asked the dragon.

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At the same time, all the identical princes answered, “In my royal family, we have wizard powers that are passed down from generation to generation.”

The dragon was persistent, and continued to capture the princes. As he would capture a duplicate prince, that prince would vanish, so he knew it was not the real prince. Hours later, after the continued battle, only two princes remained. The dragon, tired and struggling, was under pressure. He knew he had to capture the real prince and not the duplicate. The dragon had an idea. He executed his plan, and captured both princes by grabbing them both at the same time.

The dragon took both princes to his secret lair, deep under the lake, outside the palace. “I have been waiting for this moment for a long time. Now I can use my other invention, the Vaporizer 2000!”

“What does that do?!” “It will turn both of you into vapor – and you will never be seen or heard

from again! Nobody will be able to find you!” snarled the Dragon.The dragon tied both princes to their chairs and set up the Vaporizer 2000

machine. Was this the end for the prince? He had his duplicate were in a tough situation. As the Vaporizer 2000 turned on, making loud noises, and was about to be shot at the princes, it suddenly shut down. “What happened?!” shouted the dragon.

As the prince looked up – he saw his trusted friends, the guards. The effect of the Hypnotizer 3000 had worn off. They quickly attacked the dragon, and tied him up and turned on the Vaporizer 2000. “No, you can’t do this to me!” shouted the dragon, as the guards shot the machine at the dragon, turning him into vapor. “Noooooooooooooooooo!!!!” echoed in the dragons’ lair as he disappeared.

The prince and guards were re-united and cheered, as they continued on with their friendship, and mission to protect the kingdom.

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BILAL NOORUDDIN

Pointers Run Elementary SchoolMrs. Stephanie Nasir

Howard County Reading Council

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Short Story2nd Grade

2nd Place Winner

THE DETECTIVE TWINS AND THE CASE OF THE FRIENDLY GHOST

Once upon a time there lived twin girls named Leah and Mia. Leah and Mia lived in a big house with their mom Camille, their dad Jeffrey and their sometimes naughty, two cats Rose and Zoey. Leah and Mia loved to read mystery books. They loved reading mystery books so much that they wanted to solve their own mysteries. The twins remembered their mom jokingly told them that their house was haunted by a friendly ghost. The girls asked their mom why she thought that the house was haunted. Their mom told them that when she is in the basement working during the day she hears someone making noise upstairs. The CRAZY thing is that no one else is home except for her and the two cats. Leah and Mia decided that they were going to solve the case of the friendly ghost. The girls went downstairs to the basement to make a plan. Suddenly, Mia heard a noise. She asked, “Did you hear that noise?” Leah said, “Yeah I heard that. It sounded like a big thump.” “Let’s check it out” said Mia. When they went upstairs they couldn’t hear or see anything except for Rose and Zoey. At the same time both Leah and Mia yelled, “IT’S A GHOST!!”

That night the girls put a video camera next to their Elf on the Shelf, Sparkles. They were hoping to catch the ghost on video walking around while everyone was sleeping. In the morning the video showed NOTHING!!! The twins sat down and decided to come up with a new plan. They decided to spread goldfish all over the kitchen floor. Leah and Mia went back down to the basement to wait. They waited in the basement because that is where their mom said she could hear the noises. Suddenly they heard a thump and some crunching. Leah and Mia ran upstairs. “WE GOT YOU!” they screamed, but there was no ghost. Instead they found their cats, Rose and Zoey. “Do you think that Rose and Zoey are the “ghost”?” asked Leah. “Do you think they made the big thumping noise?” asked Mia. The girls didn’t know what to think. Suddenly, Zoey jumps on the counter. She knocks off a cup of water and jumps off of the counter with a big THUMP. “Did you girls hear that ghost?” mom yelled up the stairs. Both of the twins replied at the same time, “IT WAS THE CAT!” The twins high fived and said to each other, “One case solved many more to go.”

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LANDON MARC ROSENBERGTuscarora Elementary School

Ms. Paula SilveyFrederick County Reading Council

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Short Story3rd Grade

1st Place Winner

ALONE On a brisk, windy night in a town called Skilletopia, there lived a mama, a papa and me. That night, for the first time ever, I was being left all alone at home! The reason for that was that Mama and Papa were heading to the theater. I was so excited when they told me I could stay home that I was jumping up and down, twisting and turning in the air. When the time came for them to leave, I saw them putting on their coats and boots and came running down the steps. “Now, Sweetie,” Mama told me, “Don’t do anything naughty while we are out.” Papa ruffled my hair on my head and told me, “I love you, buddy.”

Then, SLAM! The door shut as Mama and Papa walked out to the buggy. “Now, what should I do first?” I thought to myself. “Should I take a nap? Or should I watch TV? Or maybe just enjoy the fact that I am finally home by myself?” I decided to lay on the couch and take a nap. After hopping onto the couch, I finally got comfortable. “What a treat,” I thought as I snuggled in on the cushions. After about an hour of dozing on the couch, I awoke with a start. “Huh, where am I?” I thought. “Phew, I am still on the couch. That was a bit of a nightmare that woke me up.” I was a bit panicked as I walked to my special spot in the bedroom. I realized something as I walked down the hallway in the dark…staying home alone was actually nerve-wracking. I heard some strange noises. The wind rattled the window panes and there was a dog barking in the distance. “Where are they? Where are Mama and Papa,” I thought as I tried to get under the covers in the bed. “I want them to be home now.” I tried to put the pillow over my head so I couldn’t hear the wind. I actually thought that I could feel it blowing on me. “Maybe I can look out and see that everything is okay,” I thought to myself. I thought if I glanced out the window I would see my normal neighborhood with my normal neighbor’s pointed house. But when I peered out from behind the curtain, over the edge of the window sill into the dark, windy neighborhood, I saw a HUGE shadow. I yelped in fear and jumped back from the window. I had gone from nervous to super scared to horrified in a matter of a second. Then, I heard something. It was a rumbling, bumping noise that was getting closer and closer. I tried to cover my head and hide. I could see lights shining into the window. I started backing away from the window and heard footsteps. They were getting louder and louder. I was actually shaking and trembling as I tried to squeeze myself under the table. I poked my head out from behind the table leg when I saw it… “YAY! They are home!” I thought as I darted from under the table. They walked into the foyer. Before they could even close the door, I jumped around at their feet.

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I gave them my loudest welcome, “Bark, bark, bark, yappyyappyyap!” “Hi, Snuggles. We missed you, too, little puppy…we missed you, too.” “Let’s just hope Snuggles wasn’t naughty,” Papa said to Mama. “Naughty?” I thought to myself, “I think I was too scared to be naughty.” And I followed them to the couch to snuggle and be loved. As I snuggled between Mama and Papa I thought, “Being home alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m glad Mama and Papa are back.”

ELLERY NSTALSKIEmmorton Elementary School

Mrs. Cynthia KacherHarford County Reading Council

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Short Story3rd Grade

2nd Place Winner

YAY, I LOST

Once there was a boy named Jeff who was very competitive. He was always yelling things like, “I never win!” But really Jeff won just as much as any other kid, about half of the time. The problem, you see, was that he was a very bad sport. No one liked to play games with Jeff.

One day, when Jeff was coming home from school, he saw a golden teapot on the side of the road. He picked it up and it was dusty, so he rubbed it with his hand. Suddenly, a llama-faced blue genie wearing a tophat flew from the pot. Frightened, Jeff fell on his back. The genie whispered,

“You freed me from the pot, so I shall grant you two wishes.”Jeff instantly knew what he wanted, so replied right away, “I want to always win!”The genie then said,

“Your wish is granted.”The genie blew a gust of smoke at the Jeff, and he ran home. The next day,

Jeff rushed downstairs and asked his mom if she would play a game with him. Smiling, she said yes. They played five games of checkers and he won all of them fair-and-square. Jeff knew the genie’s spell had worked. He was excited and it was hard to keep the secret.

For many days, he happily won over and over again. He played basketball and he won. He played volleyball and he won. He played board games and he won. He played card games and he won. And on and on and on. He was having a blast!

Then, something happened. Winning all of the time stopped being fun. So, when he played a game he knew he would win he said,

“I will cheat to lose!” So, when he played chess against his brother Alex, he had many good moves

in his head, but when it was his turn, he purposely tried to make a bad one. Despite that, he always won. The last time he played chess, during the game he heard a sound outside. He looked up and accidentally knocked over the queen. When he looked down at the board and saw the piece, he did not look happy. It had put his opponent in checkmate.

The next day he and his friends had a race in the park. He wanted to lose, so he ran very slow. However, he was scared of spiders. Suddenly, he looked down and there was a spider on the ground by his foot. Jeff was frightened and he quickly ran away from the deadly, creepy beast. He ran from the ugly spider so fast he passed all of the other runners and ended up winning the race without even trying or breaking a sweat. He was so disappointed that he had won again, he sprinted off towards his house before they could award him with the golden trophy.

Knowing he would win everytime had taken the thrill out of games for Jeff. He started to look for the golden teapot that had started this whole mess. Jeff looked high and low and everywhere he could think to look. Finally, he saw it. There it was, on the side of the road. He picked it up and this time wished that he could lose a game. The genie said again,

“Your wish is granted.”

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Jeff ran home and asked Alex to play a game of basketball. When Alex swished the game winning shot, he was puzzled when Jeff yelled, “YAY I LOST!”

OLIVER LINEBERGERWaugh Chapel Elementary School

Mrs. S. KyteAnne Arundel County Reading Council

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Short Story4th Grade

1st Place Winner

A LEAF OF LOVEI was a tiny little sprout with not a hint of any leaves at all. All of my

sproutling friends laughed at me. They left me out of all of their conversations and silly games. I felt like I didn’t belong. As time passed, all of my peers grew into big, beautiful trees. My trunk was growing, yes, but still, I had not a trace of leaves! I was jealous of all of the trees; they were so big and beautiful. Then one beautiful early summer day, as the sun stretched over the sky, I saw a figure walking toward me. As the figure came closer, I saw that it was a little boy. I realized, though, that he was not focused on me, but instead, he was looking at all of the trees. He walked over to the tree farthest to the left of me, and ran his hand over its trunk. He walked in my direction, brushing his hand over each tree trunk he passed.

Then he got to me. I expected him to brush his hand along my trunk and keep moving, but to my surprise, when he got to me, he touched my trunk, smiled, and sat down! He took out a book and started to read. It was a mesmerizing story, taking me somewhere else, to another world! When he was done, I was sad, because I had to watch the little boy leave.

Just then, though, I felt a tingling sensation on one of my branches! When I looked over, I saw something beautiful—a glorious, amazing leaf had grown on my branch! I shook with joy! I had never been happier than I was then. I looked at my new pretty leaf and saw something on it—my leaf had some words on it! I strained to see the words more closely, but the leaf was too far for me to read them.

The next day, the boy came back! He again read a mesmerizing story. This time, though, when he was done, he did not leave right away. Instead, he introduced himself, “My name is Lucas. Lucas Calve.” He smiled, waved, and then he left.

After he was gone, I looked at my one leaf. Suddenly, I felt a tingle on another one of my branches! I looked over and saw that another leaf had grown! This time, it was close enough for me read the words—the leaf said “Lucas Calve!”

Many weeks went by and the summer faded into fall. Each day through the summer, Lucas had come, sat under my branches, and read a story. I now had many beautiful leaves, each with his name on them! Though fall meant that Lucas had to go somewhere called ‘school” every day, he still came every afternoon with an amazing story, and every day, I grew another leaf!

The days got colder. One day, Lucas came to me with a huge coat on! He raised a suspicious eyebrow at me and asked, “Why are your leaves still green and not falling off?”

Surprised, I looked around at the other trees and saw that their leaves had turned various shades of yellow, red, and orange and many had already fallen off! The ground around those trees was covered in colorful leaves. On the other hand, my branches were still covered in green leaves, and none of them had fallen!

While I was observing my surroundings, Lucas had settled in with a new, wonderful story called, “Little House on the Prairie.” When he was done, I watched him leave. Then I was ready. I watched as my 150th leaf claimed its spot.

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The years passed, and Lucas came and read to me as much as he could. And every time he did, I sprouted a new “Lucas Calve” leaf, which remained eternally green. Eventually I realized why my leaves didn’t turn colors and fall off. It was because my leaves were made of love—the love that Lucas gave me every day he came and read to me! I wanted to say “Thank you” to my dear friend Lucas, but as you know, trees can’t talk!

SIANA AMI KABARIAClarksville Elementary School

Mrs. Hilary Becker Howard County Reading Council

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2nd Place Winner

LILA’S ROBOT

Lila peered out of the bush and pressed the button on her walkie talkie. “All clear,” she whispered. Making the signal for “go,” she took a remote out of her pocket. Gently, she pushed the “up” button. A little white owl robot rose into the air. Lila put a string of lights in its claws. The little owl went to the top of the tree, and from there down, stringing the lights around the highest parts of the tree. It was beautiful!

Lila opened one eye, and awoke. Yawning, she looked across the room at her invention. She sighed. The science fair was in one day, and she had been up all night thinking about it. She was ready, but she wasn’t very confident. She knew it worked. She had even tested it. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was nervous. Her robot had never flown as high as the big tree in City Hall. The purpose of this year’s science fair was to make an invention that could decorate the highest parts of very tall Christmas trees. Lila, seeing a chance to use her inventive skills, entered her name in the contest. Most people thought the contest was stupid. “Why make a robot and win, if there isn’t even a prize?” some said. Lila didn’t want a prize if she won. She just wanted to have fun and invent something that would change the world. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Lila reached over to her bedside table and turned off her alarm. Slowly, she got up and grabbed her coat. “I need to test this some more.” she said to herself. As if the robot had read her mind, it whirled to life. Grabbing the remote, Lila turned it on and hit the “up” button. The little owl flew upward and greeted her with a happy hoot. “I love this new technology.” she exclaimed. The new technology was so good, that it made the robot seem like it was alive. “Where should we go today?” Lila asked her robot. The tiny robot flew out of the window and headed down the street. Lila laughed. She followed it down the street all the way to the park. The little robot stopped next to the big tree in City Hall. The owl bobbed her head towards the tree. Anxiously looking around to make sure nobody was going to watch her fail, Lila held up a string of lights. The little owl came and grabbed them from her. Lila held down the “up” button and let her other hand slowly come down to touch the “go” button. She closed her eyes tightly. The robot rose at first slowly and then bolted to the top of the tree and settled in on one of the branches. Lila opened her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It had worked! She rubbed her eyes. “Someone pinch me!” she whispered. Her owl flew down to her and pinched her lightly. Every branch was strung with lights. She hugged the owl. “Your name is Evie.” she said. Evie chirped happily.

The Next Day… Lila woke up to Evie tweeting in her face. “What is it?” she asked. The owl pointed to the clock. It read exactly 6:00 in the morning. “I have to go!” Lila screamed. Evie rolled her eyes. She had been trying to wake her up for at least 20 minutes. Lila grabbed her backpack. As she walked out the door, she felt the butterflies flutter in her stomach. Evie lead the way to City Hall, making happy sounds along the way. Lila felt like she was going to be sick. There were hundreds of people at City Hall, all waiting for the same thing: the Christmas tree decorating. And they were all going to be watching her. While Lila watched the other contestants, she saw how some failed. She hoped that wouldn’t happen to her. She hoped it would go the same way as her test flight. “Will Lila please come up to test her invention?” called the mayor. Trying to gain all of her strength, Lila timidly walked up to the mayor with Evie flying behind her.

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“3…2…1…GO!!!” yelled the mayor. Nervously, Lila held down the “up” button and hit the “go” button. Slowly, Evie rose higher and higher, stringing the lights carefully on each branch. It was going perfectly. Everything was going fine. But then Evie realized that all these people were looking at her. She began to feel nervous. “C’mon!” cheered the crowd. Evie looked down at them. They were cheering for her! Gaining confidence, she strung the last row of lights. She had done it. Lila smiled at Evie. They had done it. They had won, together.

NOA PETKEParkway Elementary School

Mr. Robert WolfeFrederick County Reading Council

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1st Place Winner

ECLIPSE

The second I walked in, I knew I wouldn’t like the place. It was a sickening pastel pink, with circular, fuzzy indigo carpets all around the room, and hard, white stools engraved with the names of success patients. There was absolutely no theme to the room whatsoever. The lights were white-bright. The window was so frosted over that, no matter how hard you pressed your face up against the glass, you could see nothing through it. It had that old-people smell, like flowers and fresh morning dew, but in a weird way. Cinnamon candles were lit nearby every stool, but they just smelled like burning plastic and melting rubber to me. I sat down on a random stool, and an old lady sat in front of me, wearing a casual white blouse with buttons, an I NYC t-shirt, and some dark blue jean capris. And me? I was just wearing a pair of grey shorts, a mostly-blue and some-black polo shirt, and my hair was lying down, lazily drooping over my shoulders, frizzed up at the ends from lack of brushing. “Are you Eclipse Hart?” The lady asks me.

I move to another stool across the room and stare intently at a candle that is near me, watching the wax melt and slowly drip down the sides of it. She turns around to look at me. “Your parents told me about you. You like Mondays, not Sundays. You like wolves, the outdoors, and dark nights; that your favorite colors are black and pine-tree green.” I give her a warning look before hesitating to say, “I don’t want to be here,” quietly but confidently, looking her in the eye.

“So, you have a new stepdad and stepsister? How is it going?” “S’okay.” I say. I stare her sharply in the eyes as if staring her down, which is a habit I have. I stand up and say, “I think I’d prefer not sitting.” I inch the stool behind me a bit, but my knees buckle. I catch myself during my fall and stand up again, acting as if nothing had even happened. No, I was not embarrassed, I just didn’t like to show weaknesses. EVER. I hadn’t cried since kindergarten, 6 years ago.

“How’s middle school treating you?” The lady asks, not yet frustrated like most people get with me at first glance. I stayed quiet and shrugged. People aren’t my favorite, but I do like animals and music. My favorite thing in the world to do is to go in the field a few miles from my house during the sunset and listen to music. I don’t dance or sing, though. They are not my hobbies. I just listen, sometimes I run. Now I have a question to ask the lady. “What’s your name?” I asked louder than I had meant to.

“Patty.” she replies. I nodded and looked out-or, rather at- the frosty window. “Do you like eclipses? It’s in your name!” Patty said.“Yes, but only lunar ones.” My middle name is actually Luna. I rub one of my

sneakers against the floor, and it seems as if Patty can’t hear the high-pitched squeak it makes. She doesn’t even blink.

“You are a monster.” She tells me. I look up quickly, in shock and sudden surprise. An image-more like a past, forgotten memory- flashes through my head. The mist clears around me. I’m out camping tonight with Sasha, Jenny, and Mike, my best friends. I keep hearing whispering, splashing, and the crunching of cool, dry fall leaves, as if below feet, so I’ve exited my tent, and am on the lookout, guarding the chosen campsite. No time to relax-I might fall asleep, and must be ready for anything that attacks-bear or human… The shadow of a large man’s hand slips quietly through

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the mist clouds. Crunch. The whispers get louder. “Go away.” I breathed. The whispering is now deafening as it turns to a shout, but still, I cannot make out the speech. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I yell. The crunching suddenly fades. The mist begins to completely vanish. The moon is clear and bright again. The campsite is ransacked, and I am all alone…

I blink twice. I’m back in the therapist's office…all of a sudden, horror takes over my body. I stare in full shock at Patty’s chair... in the chair sits… a ginormous, evil, bloodthirsty-looking... monster…

SOFIA MOOREKemptown Elementary School

Mrs. Lindsay WildasinFrederick County Reading Council

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2nd Place Winner

MOONLIT

Chapter 1Darkness.It all started with darkness.Pure, black darkness.Its silence was deafening.And then, in the distance, there was a glimmer of light.It approached me, growing bigger every second. As I peered into it, it began to take shape. First it was a lion, then a horse, next an eagle, and finally, it turned back into a ball of light. It grew bigger and bigger, until finally, it shattered.

Chapter 2I stared around me in awe as tiny shards of light began to settle. They looked so beautiful, resting there so still and peaceful. I looked down at myself and saw a sight that took my breath away. The small bits of light had not only settled around me, but on top of me as well. I had never looked so beautiful, so dazzling. As I glanced up, I saw a large bit of light drifting towards me. It approached me, and much to my surprise, it spoke. “You are Luna. Remember that, for you should never forget who you are. And all around you are stars, billions and billions of stars. And over there, that bluish green thing, that is a planet, Planet Earth.” With that, the star drifted away. I gazed at Earth with longing. I wished I could be closer. Suddenly, I felt myself moving. I was drifting towards Earth. As I settled down, I felt tired suddenly. I let the darkness overcome me, and the next thing I know, I was asleep.

Chapter 3I woke up with a jolt. Brightness blinded me.For a second, I forgot where I was, who I was. Then, my gaze fell upon Earth and I remembered. I was Luna. All around me were stars. And Earth was a planet. I looked at it and then I noticed something a bit odd. Earth was no longer an empty, lifeless planet, but was filled with beings. Many, many beings. The beings that appeared to be in charge had two legs, two arms, and one head. I decided to call them humans. That seemed like a fitting name. One of these humans glanced up. Then, it noticed me. It looked star struck. It pointed me out to its friend. Suddenly, all the humans were looking up at me. They stared up at me for a while, and then returned to their work. But every once in a while, one would sneak a glance up at me.

Chapter 4That’s how my life went on. Sleeping, and then waking up to see all the progress humans had made. Suddenly, after a particularly long rest, a thought occurred to me. If the humans could see me, did they know I could see them too? I decided to test that theory out. When a young human spoke out, I was ready. “Oh, you are so bright tonight. Could you give out less light?” she asked. Immediately, I pressed myself closer together and became smaller. The human gasped, but continued working. And I continued to change shape, just because of that young human’s request.

Chapter 5One day I realized how long I had actually lived. How much I had been through. I was there for the first stars, the first humans. I watched over as the humans improved. I had lived a long and happy life, and many people looked up to me, found hope in me. You might have

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done so yourself, but you, dear reader, would not have known me by my given name, Luna, but by your name for me, the Moon.

NATALIE WALLACEHillcrest Elementary School

Mrs. Joan McCartanBaltimore County Reading Council

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1st Place Winner

HOW TO GROW

I was completely petrified. How could I be stupid enough to listen to Henry? Why would I agree to steal from the jewelry store? What have I done! So many regretful thoughts buzzed through my head, and the shame was so strong, it hurt. I shook as I crouched behind the counter, the sound of sirens and alarms loud and piercing, wishing I had never left through the window, never stole the car, and never met up with Henry in woods a mile from the store. “Cass, don’t move, I’m gonna try to find a way out,” whispered Henry in a grave voice. I wanted to believe he could fix everything, that we would get out and I would never have to think about it ever again, but I knew it was too late. Even if we escaped, how would I ever live with this? I watched as Henry quickly sneaked around the building, looking for some sort of escape route or distraction. I looked out a window and saw the police pulling up to the store. We’d been caught. “Henry, how could you get us into such a mess? I never should have trusted you, let alone BE with you. This was all a mistake,” I burst out with , yelling at my now ex-boyfriend, right before the police called to us. “Face a wall and put your hands where we can see ‘um,” the police said, loud and clear. “We know you’re in there. You’ve been surrounded.” I still remember the dread in my heart, and the prayer that I said that I would someday be forgiven.

I am ashamed of my past leading up to my greatest mistake, but my past is my past, I can’t change it, and it is important nonetheless. Everything began to get shaky when we had to move for my dad’s job. He was promoted to a Navy Lieutenant Commander, which meant we had to move to South Carolina from Pennsylvania. I moved away from my friends, my neighborhood, and everything I knew and loved. And even though we were moving to be closer to where my dad had to be, he would still be gone for many month or even years at a time. I would say I was fine with my dad being away, since it was for our country and whatever, but the problem was my mom was never around. She worked a night shift at the hospital, but I never knew what exactly she did, she was always so busy, and never had time to talk to me.

I felt lonely, and couldn’t believe I wouldn’t even have Mack, my best friend from Pennsylvania. She would always comfort me, always make me laugh. Mack knew what to say, that’s for sure. Nothing bad, or wrong, or strange ever came out of her mouth. I sometimes wished she was my sister, so I could be one of two kids, not an only child. And I loved her like a sister, I didn’t care if she was or not.

New place, new school, new everything. My mom had a new job, but it seemed exactly the same. Just thinking about trying to adjust to everything made me want to cry.

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On my first day of school, I bumped into a boy named Henry. He seemed pretty cool, one of those leather jacket and plain white t-shirt kind of guys, you know? He seemed nice, and he was in some of my classes, so I tried to be kind. I didn’t expect it, but we hit it off nicely. Who knew he would become friends with a dark brown streaked with blue haired kind of girl, who loved art and science, and wore ripped jeans and tie-dyed shirts?

It turns out Henry had many friends who he introduced me to. I had no idea what kind of people they were, but I became close to them, as close as you can become to six people in three weeks, anyway. Everything seemed okay until they asked me to come hang out after school. It turns out they thought drinking and smoking were cool, and pressured me into trying them. Oh, was I weak. I thought I was a good kid, but I almost accepted that I wasn’t. I began to not like myself, but I thought if I kept doing these awful things and being as popular as I was, I would like myself more. Just in case you are wondering, it didn’t work.

So school was difficult, but it isn’t the only thing. My parents were never around, so they hardly ever noticed when I got my driver’s license. I made whatever I wanted to eat, and I did what I wanted. They thought I was a perfect little flower, dancing in the sun. All I felt like was a rotting weed, choking out the beauty of the flower and replacing it with my ugly darkness.

I had heard stories of people with rotten lives, and I began to wonder if my own story fit in that category. Sure I didn’t have a physical sickness, but I didn’t have a sunny flower life, either.

Then I decided I wanted to change. I was going to stop secretly drinking and smoking, stop hanging out with these bad people, and stop getting in trouble for talking in class or chewing gum in school. Then things got complicated. I had the tiniest little crush on Henry, I will admit it. But he took it to the next level when he asked me to be his girlfriend. I accepted, and that little weed had taken over my life for the worse.

At what point had my self hatred taken over? I am not sure, but I stopped caring. I stopped believing I could ever change, stopped believing I could ever make a good difference in the world. I let others make my decisions, and tell me what I should do. One day, I even let my boyfriend convince me to rob a jewelry store.

I told my mom I was going upstairs, then I waited until she left. Once she did, I hopped through my window onto a tree, and quickly climbed down. I was wearing black attire, and stealthily snuck into my car, and drove to the woods where I was meeting Henry. It was just us, two teenagers, at a store in the middle of the night, about to attempt robbery.

Once we were in the jewelry store, the moment Henry touched a display case, alarms went off. Then the doors all locked, leaving us no means of escape. We were trapped. It had ended worse than I could imagine.

I cried, crouched behind a counter, while my stupid boyfriend tried in vain to find a way out. How could I do this to myself? How could I ever throw away the chances I had at a good life? I knew I would pay for my actions.

“Face a wall and put your hands where we can see ‘um,” I heard. “We know you’re in there. You’ve been surrounded.”

I silently handed myself over to the police, prepared for any punishment they would inflict upon me.

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“I realize now that what I have done was wrong. But twenty years ago, when I was seventeen years old, in a bad situation with bad people, I did what was wrong, which I regret with my whole heart. But if my past has taught me anything, it’s that people can change, for better or for worse, and you should always strive for the better change. It’s not any use to resort to alcohol, or smoking to make you feel better, when all you need is support. I was afraid. But I have learned, and what use is a mistake if you never learn. I was once a flower, a flower that got taken over by a weed. But now, I see that the weed has made the flower stronger, able resist other weeds that try to harm it. We learn from our mistakes and others’, and each mistake makes us better. I hope you learn from my past, and don't make the same mistakes. If my story has helped one person in the world, then it will have been worth living.” I smiled as I stepped down from the podium, truly meaning every word that I said. I listened to the applause of the audience, then looked to where I knew my parents were sitting. They smiled at me, and I knew they would tell me how proud of me they were at their first chance, like they always do. I then looked over to Mack, happy we were still friends, and her face expressed the same thought. I knew how lucky I was to be here, to have learned from my mistakes, and have a good life after all. Motivational speaking had become my passion, my purpose. I understood then why I had the life that I had. I now realize how much I have had an impact on the world. My bad years may have saved someone else from having even worse years. Now it is my job to tell everyone my story, so nobody has to make my mistakes. Now I know who I am. I am Cassandra Wright, the weed that blossomed into a flower.

MOLLY C. HOLTHAUSCentreville Middle School

Ms. Karen FieldsUpper Shore Reading Council

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2nd Place Winner

SILK

PrologueShe was flying; she was soaring, her bare feet hardly touching the sandy ground,

her hair waving around her head, her body stretched so thin it didn’t seem humanly possible, her smile spread across her whole face. She danced with a wave of gentleness that calmed your soul from the very first look. Her content smile gave you deep warmth that spread to your entire body. She danced until it grew dark and you could barely see your hands in front of you. She stopped to inhale, taking a deep breath. Looking around she sighed, her warm smile gone. She gathered her things: her ratted and torn flip flops, her purple water bottle, and her faded blue sweat shirt. Then she ran, her short, stained dress waving in the wind’s breath, leaving behind the high tides, the mounds of sand, and the beautiful sunset.

She ran, making sure she made it back to the home-she-could-barely-call-home. She ran until she came to a shady house that used to be gray, but became brown over the long and weary years, the windows dreary and disgusting. She stepped up to the red door, in need of a paint job, and silently opened the creaky door which read Rainbow Lark Orphanage. She stepped inside to the dark room, walking up the steps to a bedroom filled with children, and collapsed onto the bed that had her name over the top: Olive.

SilkI wake up to look at the dusty gray ceiling above me. A loud shout comes from the

other room. “GET UP!” shouts Ms. Romero, the old lady that is supposedly taking care of us. All

she really does is sit in front of the TV all day, making us do her work. I slip my sneakers on over my cold feet and get up, then grab a broom and start sweeping. She peeks in and then walks away. I put down the broom and take out a clean sheet of paper and start to draw. I hear the creaking of a staircase. I drop my doodles but it’s already too late. Ms. Romero is back. She stares at me; I shift uncomfortably and glance at my feet. A deep growl comes from her throat. I rush to grab a broom and get straight to work. She eyes me still. Not knowing what to do, she turns out of the doorway, then decides to pop back in. She grabs the paper and pencils off my bed. I frown and get back to work, sweeping the corners. Then I grab a rag, wet it, twist it, and start wiping down the wood furniture. By the time I’m done I can hear Ms. Romero’s loud, droning snores. Sighing, I grab my sweatshirt, and then head down the stairs towards the door.

I step out into the warm October air, feeling the breeze on my skin, taking a deep breath as the air fills my lungs. I jump down and start walking down the sidewalks. Behind and in front of me are dozens of quaint little shops. I look inside the windows at all the expensive items, from beautiful, flowing dresses to fancy notebooks. I sigh and decide not to waste my time on something impossible. But then one more window catches my eye. Inside is the most beautiful pair of ballet slippers! They are smooth and silky, a pale pink. All I know is that I need them. I need to feel the softness of that silk on my toes. I think of them the rest of the way to the beach. I think about them while I twirl and spin and dance and sing. I think about them as I eat my ham and cheese sandwich, and while I’m staring into the emptiness of the ocean in front of me.

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I think about the silk slippers as I work on dusting the house top to bottom. I dance, pretending I’m dancing in the silk shoes. I dance around until Ms. Romero catches me. She hates anything fun or nice or sweet. Most of all she hates children. Tall or short, blond or brunette, slender or plump. She hates me a lot. I’m the only one she managed not to steal the happiness from. My imagination runs too wild for most eleven year olds; the doors to my creativity are never closed.

I have found a way to make money for the slippers. There is a repair shop only a couple blocks away from the orphanage called Louis’ Auto Shop. I run up to his door and knock loudly.

”Who is it?” he yells. I yell back, “I want to work for you in the shop.” A pause comes from behind the door. I wait. Then he replies, “What’s your name kid?”

“Olive,” I respond. “Well, Olive. Where are your parents?” he says in a deep voice.“Don’t have any,” I manage to squeak out. He grunts and unlatches his door, pokes

his head out, and scans me. He grunts again, then opens the door all the way and beckons me inside. I take a step. Everything is gray, the walls, the furniture, the floor, and the carpet. He stares me down. I smile, hoping he will say yes. He breaks a grin. Then he laughs, real loud. I smile, unsure of what to do. He stops.

“Sorry,” his voice wanders. “It’s Olive.” “Sorry kid.” he says. I frown and turn away. He pats my shoulder and I turn back

and look at him. “Look kid,” he says. “I would love for you to work with me, but don’t you have better

things to do than sit around fixing stuff?” He pauses. “Nope,” I replied. “I need money and there is really nothing else I have to do, so

here I am.” I pause for a second.” Okay! It’s settled. I will come help out tomorrow, at let’s say, twelve pm?” I take a breath. He looks down at me. I wave and step outside the door, closing it behind me. He actually didn’t say no! I hurriedly skip home, the music in my head spinning like the wheels of the cars on the road. I smile and run as fast as I can, spinning in between my steps. Happiness bursts out of me like confetti, and I dance all the way back to the orphanage and quiver with joy until I fall asleep.

I wake up at eleven to get dressed. I sneak past Ms. Romero, who snores deeply. The door is open when I get there, as if he was expecting I would walk through. So I do, hanging my coat on a hook.

“I’m in the garage!” he shouts. I kneel beside him and get to work. I sweep his garage filled with leaves. I wash his car, and then I do some big stuff, like fix the leaking pipe in his car. Afterwards he decides to bring me to the ice cream store. I never get ice cream.

“How do you know how to do all that stuff?” he asks me one time while we work. It takes me a while to think about the answer.

“After I asked to work here, I went home and read a lot of books,” I respond.“Wow!” he replies. Yeah, I think in my head. Louis and I have really bonded over the last two weeks. We

joke around with each other. He feels like a father to me. Also I get $10 every week. That is the most I’ve ever made.

“Hey Ol, can you hand me the wrench?” Ol is what he calls me for short. I run over and he ruffles my hair with his greasy fingers. He pauses to close up a wire on the car.

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“Hey I was thinking Olive,” he says. “Do you want to help me paint my house?” I smile and nod.

When we are done his house is brand new. We painted the outside bright yellow and the shutters blue. I cross my arms, and tilt my head. “It looks amazing!” I say. He nods in agreement. I check the time on Louis’ watch. “Oh darn!” I say. “Got to go!” I walk home past all the shop windows, until I get to the window with the slippers in them. I sigh and stay there till the sun goes down.

Today Louis decides that we can end early and take a walk. I take him to the window and tell him why I wanted money. He asks if he can see me dance. I say yes. We head to the beach and I dance for him. When I finish he claps and ruffles up my hair. He tells me he had been an only child. I tell him about my parents. We walk hand in hand into the setting sun of the October sky.

Today’s my last day. Then I will have enough money for the slippers. Afterwards Louis puts a hand on my shoulder, and hands me a gift. As I head “home,” I think about how the slippers will feel on my feet. When I get to my bed, I open the wrapped box. Inside is a pair of silk slippers. Epilogue I was at the beach in my new slippers, and he came down. The news made me dance with exhilaration. Together we will be a family! I stare down at the ruffles of pink silk, and then up at Louis.“Are you ready for a new journey?”

EVA THOMPSONOklahoma Road Middle School

Mrs. J. AbbotCarroll County Reading Council

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1st Place Winner

A SOLDIER’S PARADOX

The room was plain. Plain as a piece of bread that just sits there, not toasted, no jelly, no butter; just the piece of bread. I looked out the window, tired of staring at the lifeless walls. The leaves outside were now vibrant colors of red, yellow, orange, and green. On any other day, these colors would have brought me joy, but now bring me only sadness. I looked down at her perfect face. It was just as paled as it had been on the day of the accident. Her piercing emerald eyes were hidden beneath eyelids that might never open again. Her mouth laid slightly parted, as if she was going to sit up and talk to me any second. Oh how I wished she would move, or show some sign of being here, right beside me. Our celebration would have been today. The celebration of our 50th. 50 whole years of being together by law and by heart, and I still never got tired of seeing and talking to her. I longed to hear her laugh that could make even the The Queen’s Guard smile. I longed to see her reading by the fireplace long after dusk had passed. All I wanted was just a second more of her time, to make one more memory.

I had gotten so used to the steady beat of the heart-monitor that it seemed normal after 47 days. Only 47 days had she been asleep, only 47 days since the accident, only 47 days of the constant pain. Out the window I see a child playing with his mother. The child waves a plastic airplane around in the air as if it was flying in the sky. Oh, for something so friendly looking, it certainly hid its true nightmare identity well. To think that a screw, just a screw could set your entire world in motion is somewhat a ridiculous and childish thought; but only when it happens, do you realize just how wrong you have been.

I glance out the window once more and to my dismay the small child throws the plane to the ground and shouts at his mother. The rejected plane on the ground angered me slightly. How could something look so innocent, yet be so vicious. The discarded toy sent bolts of anger and pain through my body. I could just picture the metal bird flying through the sky all because of a screw the size of a peanut. If they took just a few extra seconds building the plane and testing it, then none of this would have happened. My only child would still be here to celebrate with my wife and I our special and rare anniversary. We would have spoken about how excited we were for our unborn grandson for whom we still have not named. And my gorgeous wife would still be here laughing about how excited I was for our grandson and teasing me about the color of my ties. But now all I can here is the steady beat of the heart monitor that kept my wife alive.

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Beep….beep….beep….beep…. The sound was repetitive and painful, to my heart and to my soul. I wished for her to do something, to do anything to get rid of the terrible, constant pulsation illuminating from the machine. I wanted her to wake up; well no I didn’t. But I wanted to see that beautiful face light up with smile, but only to fade once I tell her the news. If she woke up, the sorrow of losing her precious, beautiful, only daughter would be so much pain, even for her strong soul. But, the loss of her unborn grandson would certainly send her over the edge. Then there was another option; the option that she would never wake from her sleep. What if she abandoned me? What if she left me her to deal with the great burden of loss? The thought was to distressing to think about, yet my mind refused to let go of the idea. If she left she would forever be in peace and swim amongst the stars. While, I would be stuck down here in the treacherous world we call reality. She had always been so brave in any situation, like a soldier marching into battle. But, when a soldier heads into battle, does he consider the outcome. How would he choose? If he decided to give in and subside to the world above, he won’t have to worry about the pain and suffering that comes with it. Or will he? His spouse, his children, his parents will have to live knowing that he took the easy way out. He will know that for the rest of their lives, every waking minute will be spent thinking about him and how he is gone. However, if he chooses to live, to continue fighting and return home, how would he bare the memories. All of those horrific memories that dictate his life. Every whistle of the wind, every beat of the drum, and every step he took would remind him of the terrible place he had been in. His thoughts would be occupied with the recollection of what had happened in his life. He wouldn’t be his honest self, and for this reason he would truly be gone. It is genuinely a paradox. A paradox that nobody should try and solve. A paradox that has ruined so many. A paradox that leaves loved ones in suspense and terror. A paradox that controls one’s happiness. So, now I sit in this room with walls of no emotion, staring out the window at the blanket of leaves that lay upon the ground. The sound of the heart monitor beats slowly in the background just as it had a couple days ago. As I gazed down at the face that had brought me so much joy, I caught a slight movement of her lower lip causing me to inhale sharply; and at the same time my ears were ringing with the monotone sound of the long, and last cry of the heart monitor.

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ELLIE HASEGAWALime Kiln Middle SchoolMrs. Melissa V. Preston

Howard County Reading Council

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2nd Place Winner

THE ONES IN THE WOODS

I live in a rural area, with hundreds of miles of woods behind my house that grow denser with trees that press closer each mile you travel in. I’ve been traveling these woods for almost as long as I can remember. I always go alone, as I have no siblings, my father is always busy and the woods scare my mother. My mother doesn’t like the trees because they’re the types that have little to no branches a few yards up the trunk and a whole bunch at the top. They unsettle her. Personally, I love the sound of the leaves crunching under my feet, the beauty of the forest when it snows, and all the animals that roam in the forest. Honestly, the forest has become my favorite place to be. The trees have become like friends to me, their leaves whispering as their arms dance in the wind. But, there is something different about this forest.

For as long as I’ve been exploring they’ve always been there. I call them the Lonely Ones. They hide partially behind the trees, peering around the trunks at me. Watching, waiting, becoming. They’re infatuating. Infuriating. They’re always there. They wear different colored suits and masks with the faces of animals, each one different. One is a fox with a dark grey suit; one is a raccoon with a black suit. There’s a doe with a white suit, a bear with a black suit, a squirrel, an owl, a crow, a cougar, a mouse, a cardinal, a blue jay, and a badger. They have haunting, beady, blank eyes. Pooling black abysses that feel like they bore straight into my soul. Two animals appear every year, on the same day.

I was allowed to venture into these woods by myself when I was eight. At first, I only saw the fox and raccoon mask wearing man. When I told my parents about it, they played it off as a joke, just a figment of my imagination that I used to get their attention. At first, I was hurt that they didn’t believe me, but, later I realized, it made sense. No one lived near us for miles and miles. My father worked at home because it was too far to drive everyday, and when he did drive somewhere, he stayed there for a few days before coming home. I’ve learned not to talk about the Lonely Ones with my parents. It makes my mother uncomfortable, which causes my father to become upset with me. I’ve gotten used to the presence of the Lonely Ones. But they’re still deeply unsettling. At first, I stayed away from them. As far away as I could, but they would always follow after me. They always maintained the same distance away from me, and they almost never spoke or made any noise whatsoever. Their footsteps were completely silent, not making even the faintest noise, no matter what they were walking on. I could never get away from them,

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and never get closer to them. They always stand in the same area, facing towards me, completely still. Not even breathing.

One year, I got a bow and a few arrows for Christmas, and I shot one at the bear masked man-right in the middle of his head. It hit with a sickening “shunk” as it sunk far into the mask and what was behind it, lodging itself there. The bear masked man didn’t even flinch, didn’t even twitch. He just calmly reached up and pulled the arrow from his forehead and discarded it at his side, never removing his dead, haunting eyes from my face. I left the forest quickly after that and never brought my bow with me again.

A few years passed, and I aged from 14 to 16. By then four more Lonely Ones had joined the ranks. A man with a wild boar mask, a man with a male deer mask, a man with a hare mask and an opossum masked man. I’ve noticed a few more things about the Lonely Ones. Sometimes they have things that will grow on them-moss, fungi, mushrooms, flowers, etc. Animals always stay away from them. One time an unfortunate fox grew too curious about the man with the badger mask. The fox cautiously trotted over. Faster than a striking snake, the masked man grabbed the fox, twisted its head far to the side, opened its jaws impossibly wide and proceeded to swallow the fox whole. The other Lonely Ones just stood there, like nothing was happing. Another time, a blue bird flew to close the cougar, and it was snatched out of the air mid flight, its sky blue feathers sticking out of the cougar man’s fist before disappearing down his throat. I don’t even want to know how many animals have fallen victim to the Lonely Ones.

I am 18 now, and my life has gotten worse. My mother has gotten sick recently, and has been admitted to the hospital. It’s going to be a while before she’s well again. My father has been struggling with his work, staying up late working and waking up early to continue what he was doing. I am still left alone, with only homeschooling work, exploring the forest and investigating the Lonely Ones. Now that I am 18, there are twenty Lonely Ones. They consist of a fox, a raccoon, a doe, a bear, a squirrel, an owl, a crow, a cougar, a mouse, a cardinal, a blue jay, a badger, a wild boar, a buck, a hare, an opossum, a chipmunk, a coyote, a lynx, and a pacific fisher (a type of weasel, as I had found out after searching a bit on the Internet). As my mother’s health declines, my father grows angrier, and I grow lonelier. I’ve come to enjoy the slight feeling of company the Lonely Ones give me.

The Lonely Ones have began to come closer when I enter the woods, and now they follow further when I return home at sunset, waiting close to the edge of the trees until the next morning when I travel back into the forest. As I return home today, with the Lonely Ones trailing behind me, I’ve decided that tomorrow I’m going to follow the Lonely Ones to wherever they lead me, no matter what. I slip inside the house, with one last glance at the Lonely Ones lurking in the woods behind me. I

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cook dinner for my father and I manage to get him to join me at the table to eat dinner. We swap stories of fond memories together. I call my mother at the hospital after washing the dishes. I tell her I love her and I hope she feels better so she can return home soon. As I head to bed, I tell my father goodnight and give him a hug, the way men do. I have a hunch that I may not return home tomorrow, and I want my family to know a bit about what happened, so I write them a note explaining what I’ve just told you. Before I turn off the light, I glance out at the Lonely Ones waiting by the tree line. “Tomorrow” I silently promise them.

The next morning, I make my father some oatmeal and I tell him good-bye before I leave. I don’t tell him “I love you”, or “Thank you for being in my life” because I don’t want him to become suspicious and try and stop me from leaving. I set out into the woods; the Lonely Ones are in sight ahead of me. Determined, overcoming my fear, I continue further and further into the woods following the Lonely Ones. As the sun is nearing the tops of the trees, we arrive at our destination.. A huge tree is sitting in front of me. Although nothing looks bad about it, there is an air around it, oozing from its very being, which radiates wrong. The Lonely Ones have stopped and turned to watch me. Taking a deep breath and mustering my courage, I proceed forward. To my surprise, the Lonely Ones slip into a wide gap in the roots. I trail behind them. My heart is racing as my eyes adjust to the darkness around me. The Lonely Ones stand closer to me than they ever have before. Suddenly, all of my worry washes away. Then in unison, they surge forward, grabbing my arms and wrists in a crushing grip. Snapping out of my trance, I scream in fear desperately trying to pull from their grasp. The Lonely Ones pull me to the ground as I try to get away. The back of my head slams hard into the ground, and the last thing I see before the world turns black is those masked men who have haunted me for years.

Slowly the world begins to slide into existence and I realize I feel nothing. No pain, no fear. Nothing. It’s wonderful. I know longer feel the need to breathe, my skin is cool and pale, and my heart no longer beats in my chest. I rise and notice I am wearing a grey suit. I turn to the other Lonely Ones standing nearby. It’s time to go. The man with the fox mask and I go, leaving the other behind. We walk, and as the sun rises a boy steps into forest. We stop, stand, waiting, and watching. Knowing one day, he’ll join our ranks too.p[p[

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MAGGIE BOURNEMagothy River Middle School

Ms. Sara CarrAnne Arundel County Reading Council

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1st Place Winner

SCENE FROM A BENCH

It was a scorching hot day and as I turned my face toward the sky, my favorite bucket hat fell off my head. I felt the blistering heat of the high noon sun on my cheeks and chin and hair. I hurried to retrieve my hat from under the boardwalk bench. It was Dad’s hat, worn and soft, and it always smelled like the sea, no matter how many times I washed it. I almost lost it again when I was startled by the shrill, piercing cries of the seagulls above. They sounded hungry, like everyone else walking along the boardwalk at lunchtime. I live at the beach year-round, but it was July now, peak tourist season. The scent of sunblock and sweat competed with the vinegary fries that sizzled nonstop in the fry shop that faced my bench. Dad and I used to sit on this bench and take in the scenes. “People-watching,” he called it. Sometimes we would talk about the weather and how it was going to help or hurt our fishing, baseball, bullies, and later, girls. But mostly we didn’t talk about anything important. Dad was an illustrator and always carried a sketchbook and pencils. From the bench, he would draw and I would talk. I would describe the small dog that panted in the heat as it padded the boardwalk and sniffed for dropped fries and bits of burgers, or the pelican that grumbled and grunted as it sat on the nearby pillar. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if Dad had been listening. He would occasionally let out a sigh, or ask, “Mm-hmm, tell me about that dog again?” But then we’d go back home and he’d show Mom his latest sketch and brag, “Look at how Mikey helped me get all of the details just right!” We had our last conversation six months ago at the hospital. Mom and my younger brother sat on his bed, quietly crying. The machines that had been supporting Dad whirred and hummed and beeped rhythmically. I sat in a chair near his head and held his hand. His nails were smooth. Mom had kept his nails trimmed and buffed while he had been in the hospital. His hand felt weak in mine and I rubbed his artist’s callus on his middle finger. I felt the dent in his ring finger where the wedding ring used to be. The nurses had given it to Mom and she wore it on a necklace. I promised him that I would still sit on Our Bench and people-watch. He didn’t answer and that was the end of our last conversation together. Mom is a yoga instructor and when I was younger, she taught me some breathing techniques to use when I would get upset about anything. She told me that it was okay to be sad about Dad, but I didn’t want to been seen crying on a crowded boardwalk. So I relaxed my body and let the sound of the gentle lapping of the waves on the coarse sand behind me take over my thoughts. A tear betrayed me, and I licked the salty drop from my chapped lips. I focused on the warm, moist breeze that carried the various scents from all of the surrounding vendors.

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I breathed in pretzels dripping with mustard and sugary taffy. The old wood of the boardwalk creaked under the slapping of worn sandals. I was distracted by a kid who had made the mistake of going barefoot on the boardwalk and was now yelping with each burning hop. I smiled and imagined Barefoot Billy would have been Dad’s sketch of the day. My stomach growled so loudly, I thought everyone standing in line at the fry shop could hear it. My aunt always gives me a free slice and a drink from the pizza stand she owns. It was only a block away but it would take me some time to make it through the crowded boardwalk. I detected a group of young women making their way down the boards. They were laughing and singing the biggest songs of the summer. Their laughs could be heard over the desperate cries of Barefoot Billy. The prettiest laugh made me think of Mary. I broke up with Mary right after Dad died. She was upset, but she said that she understood. I missed Mary. Maybe if I timed it right, I could start a conversation with them and invite them to my aunt’s shop for some pizza? I usually met my aunt around one o’clock. I checked my watch. Still broken. Mom had been after me about getting it fixed. “You NEED a watch!” she said, exasperated. But Mom couldn’t have predicted that my laziness was going to pay off now. “Excuse me?”

“What?!” It was the girl with the prettiest laugh. “Excuse me, do you have the time, my, uh, my watch stopped.” I grinned awkwardly as I held up my wrist. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? ‘My watch stopped’?” Her two friends started giggling. I could smell their tanning oil, and cigarette smoke.

“Come on, let’s just leave him alone.” “Yeah, look at him, no need to deal with the pathetic.”

“Whatever,” scoffed Not-Mary. “There is a HUGE clock hanging RIGHT there… maybe if you took off those big sunglasses you could find out the time for YOURSELF!” All three girls roared with ugly laughter, then left their spots in front of the bench. Mom was right, I needed to get my watch fixed. I waited on the bench until I couldn’t hear their singing anymore. My cheeks were burning, but not from the sun. I started Mom’s breathing exercises again. The thought of my aunt’s famous zesty pizza and an ice cold soda helped to cool my anger. Luckily the crowd had thinned out a little and it wouldn’t take very long to get my aunt’s stand. I got up and unfolded my cane and made my way to her stand, trying to tap away my humiliation.

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MADELINE BLATTAUOklahoma Road Middle School

Mr. Max ErmanCarroll County Reading Council


2nd Place Winner

UNTITLED

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I’m Jason Bright, previous winner and now host for this year’s annual Invention Convention!” A roaring applause, enough to fill my stomach with butterflies, cheered. Behind the curtain, I tuned out Jason to watch the people around me. He was just going to say the regular introduction they do every year. Only one person stood out. He was standing alone in the corner. Not only was he alone, but he was also covered in dirt and he had a missing lens in his glasses. Suddenly, I heard my name being called. It took me a second before I realized they were calling me on stage. I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the curtain. Shining lights blocked my view of the crowd. I began my speech, imagining them as the stuffed animals I used to practice with as a child. “Have you ever been stuck in traffic and wondering how you could make it go any faster? I propose to you the Drematron.” I pressed the button one of the stagehands gave me. A hole opened in the stage behind me and a pillar with a pair of Dreamatron glasses sitting on it popped up. Cameras zoomed in on it and the people in the crowd looked up and could see it on the Jumbotron. “You just put your car on self-drive and put on the Dreamatron. In the Dreamatron, you can create anything. You’ll be having so much fun you’d want to get stuck in traffic. A common concern is that it would be too addicting. The solution is that the Dreamatron has a built-in timer and it will estimate how long you’ll be stuck in traffic. When the cars go back to a regular pace the Dreamatron will just shut down.”

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The crowd politely applauded and Jason approached me and we shook hands. “How did you come up with this idea?”“I was stuck in traffic and the radio announced the Invention Convention. I began thinking about projects I wanted to showcase when a car honked behind me. They were obviously stressed trying to get somewhere fast. I thought, ‘They need to relax. What about I make something so people can have fun in traffic.’ The rest is history.” “Very inspiring. Thank you.” We shook hands again before I was dismissed, and other people were called up. They all presented their ideas. The last person, the one I had noted earlier covered in dirt, went up. He showed off a wildly popular teleportation device. He even tried it on stage. It worked. The crowd cheered wildly. He remained humble as he was dismissed, and the show went to a commercial break. Everyone backstage, except for me, crowded him and gave him a congratulations pat on the back. Some even went as far as to predict he would win. He smiled and took all the praise graciously. Meanwhile, I sulked in the background. I felt overwhelmed by despair and disappointment. I thought I had the winning idea. I tried to think positively. Investors were watching and surly someone would want to back my idea. It hardly dented the cloud of negativity. Suddenly, Jason came back on.“Sadly, there can only be one winner. After I read out the top three inventors whoever receives the loudest cheer wins.” He ripped open a golden envelope containing the names of the top three. I was excited to find out that my name was on the list. Only to heat that the teleportation inventor was next, and he had the biggest applause. Jason ended the show. I ended up being third. It was just an hour after the show ended when I realized I left my phone by the coffee machine. I went back to the venue that the Invention Convention took place. Everyone was in a rush to leave so I assumed they’d all be gone, but I was surprised to see another car in the parking lot. I parked in the spot closest to the door. I killed the engine and got out with my briefcase in hand. Inside was my Dreamatron and the legal papers so that if any investor came up to me with an offer I’d be ready to answer questions and sign papers. But, no one did. Surprisingly, the doors were open. When I stepped backstage the lights were still on. I saw the coffee machine was still out. Beside it was my phone. When I reached it, I placed it in my pants pocket. I was about to turn around when something caught my eye. The red curtain had moved slightly. There was no harm in checking it out. I went to the curtain. I opened it just a little.Suddenly, a spotlight turned on. It swiveled to my direction. I was blinded by its brightness. But, I was even more taken aback when a deep and dangerous voice started to speak. “Your performance today was something to be proud of.” “Who are you?” I stupidly asked. “It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is the future. How will you win next year?”“Why do you care?”“I have my reasons.” The voice replied ominously. Another spotlight turned on a few feet to my left. A person was holding a clipboard and presenting it to me. “Now, you have two options. You can walk away and try to win on your own, most likely to fail again. Or, you can sign the clipboard and we can work together so you can win. I get some royalties for when we sell the product. You earn money and a name for yourself. What’s it going to be?”He spoke to my ambition. He knew what to say and how to say it. Of course, I went to the clipboard. I signed my name. When I finished they gave me a note with an email

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address. They said to use it to communicate the details. I pocketed it and drove home. The whole way I couldn’t help but question what I was getting myself into.

It’s been a year since I first signed up with my investor. Over the months he provided me with everything I could possibly want. All the money I needed to build prototypes and models for my invention. I built a machine that, if you typed out exactly where you wanted to go, all it took was the press of a button and you would show up there. It fixed one of the major drawbacks with regular teleportation. In regular teleportation, you couldn’t go anywhere you couldn’t see. Somehow my investor was able to get the teleportation technology so I could build my device. Now, I was back at where it all began. The guy from last year was on stage now. This time he was wearing a clean suit and fixed glasses. He introduced the show and I was ready this time. When they announced my name, I went on stage with a smile on my face. “Good evening. Some of you may recognize me from last year as the inventor of the Dreamatron. Well, tonight I present the-” I heard gasps come from the crowd. I hardly had time to turn around before I felt myself being lifted off the ground and into the air. I could feel the flames grabbing me and tearing at my skin. I felt like I was being cooked over a fire slowly and painfully. That’s when it all turned black. White. That’s all I saw when I woke up. I opened my eyes immediately. I blinked them a few times. I realized that I was staring at a ceiling. The sound of a steady beeping filled the otherwise silent room. I couldn’t remember much. Just my name being called and then a blinding pain before being knocked out.“You’ve been out for a week, if that’s what you’re wondering.” A soothing female voice informed me, “We tried to salvage as much as we could. Unfortunately, your missing your left arm and leg. Your vocal cords are damaged beyond repair. They say there was a bomb built into one of the inventions. There was a huge explosion. Possibly a terrorist attack. But there is…” She continued, but I tuned her out. She was going to talk about how there was hope for me but I didn’t care. I was focusing on what I had remembered when she said explosion. I recalled pressing the button to bring my invention up. Then gasps. Next thing I knew, I felt heat and fire coming from close behind me, meaning it was my invention that blew up and I was the one that pressed the button. But, I don’t understand how. I built it all myself and followed the teleportation plans perfectly.I heard her heels clicking on the tile floor. She turned off the light and shut the door. But I was more awake than ever. I had figured it out. But I had no one to tell it to. I was already too late. A voice, deep and dangerous, began to speak. “Sweet dreams.” For a second time, it all went black. But, this time, I wasn’t going to wake up again.

RHEYA RODRIGUEZStevensville Middle School

Ms. Kelly NashUpper Shore Reading Council

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1st Place Winner

BEAUTIFUL ENDINGS

The sound of my alarm clock pierced through my brain and a feeling of emptiness came before my wake.My eyes opened in slow motion. Not sure if I could move, I tried to raise myself, but my entire

body moaned in grief. I sunk back into pillows, smothering myself with my blanket. I couldn't see the point of getting up with nothing to look forward to. My vision was blurred, my mind fuzzy.

Do you know what heartbreak feels like?Because I didn’t. But I used to think I did.I thought the cute boy in my physics class who asked me out but never followed up with a date

was heartbreak.I thought my uptight mom who forbid me go to a Saturday night party because I had a C in

geometry was heartbreak. I thought losing my favorite rose gold diamond pendant necklace after weeks of saving up for it

was heartbreak. I was so wrong.Somehow dragging myself out of my bed into standing position, I shuffled to my bathroom,

stared at myself in the mirror and saw a complete stranger staring back. My eyes were dim and glassy, I had some sort of weird, miserable glazed-over look on my face, like a depressed mannequin, or something. I looked completely defeated and felt entirely disconnected with myself, in all aspects.

…

It was a chilled autumn day, yet the sun still shone brightly down on all of the colorful harlequin trees and corn fields. Nearly every little brick doorstep was accompanied by a tiny jack-o-lantern covering a hand-dipped white candle.

If things were normal, Mackenzie and I would have been walking to the bus stop, thinking up ideas for this year’s next iconic twin Halloween costume we’d dress up as together. I’d tell her about my older sister’s ridiculously tight fitting, figure-hugging, meagre bunny “costume,” if you could even call it that, and she’d tell me how she’d found her mom’s stash of candy and ate more than half of it, and there’s no doubt we’d be laughing until our sides hurt.

But things weren’t normal.I was walking alone. Mackenzie had been my best friend since the beginning of last year. Why she chose me, I don’t

know. Before Mackenzie, I the girl who would sit in the back of the class, sweatpants and a stained college t-shirt with knotty, tangled hair pulled into a ponytail, nose buried in a book. Not the first person you’d look at when you walk into a room.

Mackenzie was the opposite. I remember the beginning of last year, she’d walk in and turn heads. Her dark, tawny hair

reminded me of the hard-reddish brown timber from a mahogany tree, her straight, short nose was

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naturally contoured, fitting well within her chiseled cheek bones, her skin glowed so bright you could have easily mistaken her for a porcelain doll. There was something dramatic and mysterious about her that pulled you in. Planets seemed to flow from her fingertips. Innovative and different, her creativity beyond limits. Just looking at her would make you break into smiles. She had such a genuine laugh, spilling from her lips like sunshine, her voice honey sweet and soft as butter. She talked so lightly, always saying the perfect words. Nobody could get enough of her capriciousness, she’d cast a spell on the school. She was a living heartbeat, strong enough to crush volcanos in a single breath, soft enough to still oceans with her smile. She was the princess that you’d dream about when you were five. She was perfect.

Mackenzie died in a car accident last week. One moment they were cruising along and the next a drunk in a Suburban soared the median and collided with them head on. The car came through the back, where she’d been sitting, and killed her within seconds.

I can barely remember how I felt when I first found out. I remember it being hurt, but a different kind. I would’ve rather broken every bone inside of my body than feel it. Everything stopped and nothing made sense. It didn’t feel real. Anxiety surged inside of me, like a bad coffee rush, heavy with thoughts.

As the days went by, I gradually wrapped my head around the fact that she was gone. It was like drowning, slowly, painfully sinking into my own disbelief. Out of all the people in the world, how could the best one die?

I’d gone to her funeral over the weekend. Her family was Christian, so the church talked about God welcoming her into heaven, even though she’d told me she was agnostic but was too afraid to tell anyone. The casket was closed, even though she’d told me she wanted to be cremated and have her ashes sprinkled into the ocean with rose petals. They played one of her “favorite tunes,” when I had listened to her playlist all of the time and had not once heard that song. The minister talked of her and her life, emphasizing good things, some relatives spoke briefly, some spoke at length. But none of them really knew her like I did.

…

I walked into the building, ignoring all of the looks. I couldn’t count the amount of people who’d tried to console me. Nothing helped. Their sympathy towards me was so evident, it irritated me, making me feel worse, if anything. No one actually cared at all, I could tell. I didn’t want pity, nor did I need anyone’s fake personality in my face. I went from the girl that nobody notices to the girl that everyone stares at. Now my only wish was to be invisible.

Finally pushing passed the crowd hopelessly trying to comfort me, I caught a glimpse of Lucas. His hands were deeper in his pockets than ever, his gaze focused on the dust on his shoes. His dark eyes were empty of any emotion or interest, even when they lifted to meet mine.

“Hey.” I mumbled.He barely grunted in response, his head hanging.Relief washed over me.Someone who wasn’t replicating the empathy, or trying to seem like they have some sort of

compassion.Silence lapsed between us. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was good. There wasn’t

anything to say. Lucas was Mackenzie’s previous boyfriend. They had been the picture-perfect couple, the one

that everyone looked at and became green with envy, the one that spiked arguments between other pairs.

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Why can’t we be more like them? Everyone wanted what they had, even I did, sometimes. He looked at her like life was perfect and the world was new. I can see how she made his soul glow, with her vivacious eyes always full of liveliness, her smile so bright it was sunshine. She envisioned so much, with her adventurous thoughts, she almost made me look blind. She didn't even have to try at all. She sparked his life in ways I'll never know.

I cleared my throat. I froze, no idea what to say. “Meet me somewhere after school?”He looked up at me. I was able to get good look at him, and could immediately tell that the old

Lucas was gone. The new one was dull and long faced, his eyes sunk, lost in his own thoughts.He finally nodded. “Behind the multiplex down the street.” I told him. He stared blankly at me

with a soft, morose countenance as I turned around to walk in the other direction.…

“I haven’t slept.” It was the first thing he’d said to me, his voice gravelly and hoarse. It sounded like it hurt him to talk.

We sat on top of a dumpster behind the cinema building on the outskirts of the town, staring out at the land stretching for miles, covered with weeds and grass.

“How are you feeling, besides that?” He didn’t respond, and didn’t seem like he was going to, either. I broke the silence.

“I really realized how superficial everyone is. They keep trying to talk to me, but they aren’t helping at all. They think they understand, they don’t. I'm living in a world so fake, I’ve nearly lost touch of the real me.” I felt his eyes rest on me again.

“I keep closing my eyes, imagining what it’d be like if she were still here.” He said, his voice still deep and husky.

“All I want is to sob my heart out. I want to release it all, set it free, not have to contain every feeling inside of me anymore. I’ll get looks, and pitiful stares and whispers, but I don’t care. Yet my eyes stay dry. I’m so numb and unable, the pain is so great it doesn’t even resonate with me anymore, like my eyes are all cried out. I just feel nothing. My heart has just died.”

He remained hushed, I could feel him staring at me, hard.“You asked me how I feel about all of this.” He said, finally. “And really, I’m just at a loss for

words. I’m hurt, I won’t deny it.” He went quiet again. “I just really feel like I’m losing my mind.”“Yeah.” “No.” He muttered, firmly, like he was yelling at me. “Like, I’m scared of myself. I’ve been

hearing things. I’ve been talking to myself, too. I’m trying not to be crazy, to keep my composure and be strong. I am strong, but I’m weak, at the same time.” The sheer agony in his voice was so distinct, my heart broke a little more than it already had. “I miss her so much. What if it gets worse than this? I don’t even know what to do anymore. I’m so lost.” A look of hurt flashed behind his eyes.

“I can't hide this pain. I can't smile like I'm okay, I can't fake it. I have no choice but to carry on with this emptiness inside of my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever be whole again.” And then he exploded into tears and I watched him break. He was weeping, bawling, with loud, heartfelt sobs. I forgot about my own feelings. I almost felt selfish, it was so painful to see him like this. He was the smiley guy, always laughing, always so happy with his arm securely draped around Mackenzie’s waist. Here he was, crying in my arms, suffocating with each breath he took. He was suffering. All I could do was hug him and let

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the gush of his tears soak through my shirt, running my fingers through his hair trying to calm the war between himself and his mind. I don’t think I’d ever seen so much real and genuine pain in my life.

And then he was still. And I was just holding him. And we were the only two people in the world and he was the only one who’d ever understand me. Like he was some sort of sanctuary, where no matter what had happened in the outside world, he was a place for me to revive myself. For the first time, I felt a little less broken. I felt peace. Or what I think peace was supposed to feel like, I’d mostly forgotten. Nothing felt real, like I was in a different realm, full of calmness and equanimity, where everything was okay, even though it wasn’t. I felt the weight lift off of my chest. Worries, doubts and pain, seemed to just fly away from me. I looked at him, and he looked up at me, his face red and swollen and tears still on his cheeks. But he was smiling at me, a soft, delicate smile, and I knew he was feeling the same serenity that I was. We both just sat there, loving the moment we were in, hoping it would last forever and that the spell over both of us right now would never break. And we watched the sunset together, because sunsets are proof that endings can be beautiful, too.

SOPHIA SMITHJames M. Bennett High School

Mrs. Teresa McCain

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Eastern Shore Reading CouncilShort Story9th Grade

2nd Place Winner

WILLIAM

Text unavailable

ELLA TOMKOBroadneck High School

Ms. M. Giroux

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Anne Arundel County Reading Council


1st Place Winner

THE THIRD CHILD

When I was small, I remember my parents surrounding me with love and care. I remember them giving me anything I needed, paying whatever necessary price for my private tutors. I was the jewel of their eyes.

“Just wait,” Mother said, “until he reveals his magic. It’ll be any day now, I’m sure.”

That day never came.

“Let Anwell carry that,” Mother said, waving her hand at me. My brother Tiernay dropped the canvas bag near my feet, as Father led the family into the castle.

The servants of the castle emerged and began to carry the family’s luggage. One tall servant beckoned to me, “May I take that, sir?” I kindly refused. Father didn’t let anyone handle the family’s magical supplies. That was a job for the family’s only ordinary child. My three older siblings and my parents all had powerful magic. As the third child born on in the third month of the year, my parents once had high hopes for me.

We entered the great hall of the castle, and my breath caught. The high, stone walls soared in great arches, with colorful flags streaming from them. At the dais, Duke Cedric and Duchess Rowena sat down, overlooking the hall. Courtiers bowed as they sat.

Suddenly Father stopped, and Mother beside him, and Tiernay and Keelia behind them. I nearly tripped and pushed them. Mother glared at me; I clenched my fists and looked down.

“Your graces, may I present Finnbar of Northwood and family, mages of King’s court.” The family, myself included, bowed to the duke. He nodded regally, his flaxen hair combed neatly under a ridiculous feathered hat. Duchess Rowena smiled at Father.

“Well met, sir,” the duke said. His speech was rich, that of gentry. “I have heard many things of you. All that follow you, are mages such as yourself…?”

My father bowed. “Indeed, my lord, allow me to introduce my fair wife Alene and our children Keelia and Tiernay, both mages-in-training. Duke Cedric smiled and inspected each family member; finally his eyes rested on me, quite clearly part of the group but not notable enough to be acquainted with the duke. Face flushed,

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I looked down immediately. The duke, though seemingly understanding, looked away.

“I thought that you had three children.”Father followed the duke’s questioning eyes. “Ah, yes, and our son Anwell.” I

bowed low, not daring to meet Duke Cedric’s eye. “He acts as assistant to our magical family.” He didn’t mention that I possessed no magic, but the intent was as if he had shouted it to the whole castle: no mage, at age seventeen, would be an assistant. An apprentice, perhaps—the word assistant clearly pointed out my deficiency, as Mother called it. The duke greeted me kindly, and I returned the greeting, quietly and ashamedly, though not shyly.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, at our urgent request. You’ll be shown to your rooms now, and join us for dinner later, if you don’t mind,” said Duchess Rowena, in a voice that clearly said we’d better not mind the clear dismissal or the dinner invitation.

That night, dressed in fine silk tunics and hose, we were shown the way to the castle’s dining hall. The hall was giant, with large tables running down the length of the room, and the noble’s table was raised on a dais. Duke Cedric, of course, sat at the head of the table. He smiled as the family joined them, although he took care not to look at me. I was used to it. It was clear, when I was ten, that I had no magical abilities. The “royal” treatment had ended then. All good things come in three, legend says. Maybe not.

“Surely His Majesty spoke of why we need you.”“Indeed. A bit of trouble with the drought recently, isn’t it?” asked Father.“Small fires have started in the fields,” the duke said. “We fear that it will

turn into a forest fire soon, which will endanger the farms and nearby villages.” I dug into the chicken. Weren’t forest fires part of the natural cycle of the forest? I knew that they were needed to clear out the dead underbrush. My parents, despite their disappointment in my lack of magic, had arranged for me to be taught as most nobles or mages are taught. However, unlike my siblings, I wouldn’t be attending a wizard’s university.

“Is that all? We can stop that easily.” Mother gestured to Tiernay. “My son is especially gifted with fire magic, but together we can surely stop the fire.”

“You also need to relieve the drought, if you will.”“What’s causing the drought?” I asked somberly.“We think that it might have been caused by the river dam,” he informed us.

“Several years ago we dammed the river that flows through the region, so that we could create a lake by the castle. This way, the water’s more accessible.”

“That must be a cause, of course. I would know,” Tiernay agreed.“My lord,” I started, catching Mother’s eye, “could you remove the dam?”“It’s been beneficial to us,” he said, waving his hand towards the dining hall.

Everyone in the castle feasted below us. “Why remove the dam if you can remove the fire?”

“Indeed.” Mother smiled. “Anwell, don’t trouble yourself over that. Let us mages handle it, and you can return to whatever it is you’re learning.”

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The next morning, news came from a nearby farm that several trees in the southern forest had caught on fire. The duke immediately called for all of us—though my parents had made it quite clear that I would have nothing to do with stopping the fire—and he arranged a great party of gentry, knights, and most importantly, food.

We set up camp in an old corn patch. The drought had done its damage here already. Across the clearings of grass, I saw that small patches of fire had started. It was my only chance to convince them not to do this. Sure, I was fearful, but I mustered up the courage to do what was needed.

“Father, Mother, you shouldn’t do this. Everyone knows the dangers of creating storms out of midair, and changing climate patterns, and if you do this you’ll regret it.”

“We don’t intend to create any storms,” Father said. “We’ll stop this fire with force.”

“Wait!” I yelled. “You can’t just fight the fire like that. Forest fires are needed to—”

“Anwell, hush,” Mother commanded. “Don’t bother us now.” She closed her eyes and linked hands with my siblings. The fire crackled in the distance. Father raised his free hand.

“Stop. You don’t know what you’re doing!” I planted myself in front of my father.

“Don’t you think I know more about magic than you do?” he growled. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve warned you, never mess with mages when they are casting spells.” He pushed me out of the way. My hands clenched.

“Listen to me, please! Terrible things happen when you mess with the forces of nature. I don’t have any magic, but I’ve studied this,” I pleaded.

The family released hands, and all together, they raised them up. All but one. Keelia stepped back. A blue dome of fire appeared around Father, Mother, and Tiernay. My brother looked to his side, and gasped. “Keelia, what are you doing?”

She shook her head, turning to me. “I believe you, Anwell.” I stared at her. She was in earnest. After all, with the blue shield up, she couldn’t rejoin them. “What do we do?”

“No magic here, first of all.” We watched as our father shouted out the words of power, as one fire sputtered out. The noon sun beat down on us all. “People like them caused this. Using magic on the fire will only make it worse.” Sweat rolled down Father’s face as he stopped another fire. Mother’s face gleamed with triumph. “We need to warn the village. Once the fire is started, it won’t stop for any mage.”

Ignoring the duke’s protests, I swung myself up onto his horse, and helped my sister up.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Rowena asked angrily.

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“Saving your people,” I snapped. “They need to evacuate the town, before the fire comes.” From across the field, Father shouted gleefully. The forest glowed orange no more.

“See? Quite easy,” he said. “There was nothing to be worried about. No fire can resist the—”

An explosive sound rocketed through the clearing. In the distance, red flared. The inferno roared with fury.

“What happened? Why is the forest on fire?!” Duchess Rowena demanded to know.

“Go now,” the duke quietly told me. I forced the horse on, galloping parallel to the fire. It quickly jumped from tree to tree, spreading east.

“How did you know?” Keelia asked me.“All the old texts say it’s dangerous to meddle with nature,” I replied. “First

the duke dammed the river, to create a lake, which partially caused this drought. Now all those haughty wizards think they’re powerful and wise enough to influence those powers. I’m glad you saw better.”

“I almost didn’t.” She sighed. “You know, I don’t agree with them, when they are ashamed of you. Magic isn’t everything.”

I felt freed, I realized. Not just by her words, but by the fact that I was taking action for myself. None of my parents’ shallow reflections mattered. It didn’t matter that I had no magic at all. Magic causes as many problems as it solves, anyway.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the village. The villagers, coughing from smoke, didn’t appear that alarmed.

“Everyone! We need to leave,” I yelled. Some of the villagers looked my way. One blacksmith scratched his bushy beard and moved closer.

“Why?! His Grace sent word that mages were handling the situation,” the blacksmith told me.

“The fire has—” I coughed on smoke. “It’s out of control!” Ahead I heard the sound of a tree falling. Faint crackling reached my ears. “Evacuate!”

By now I had attracted more villagers. “Quick, everyone! Get all your family members. We need to go now!” Keelia yelled.

“Lead those that are here to the castle,” I commanded. “I’ll make sure everyone’s out of the village. The fire’s almost here.” Keelia nodded, then paled. I looked. The conflagration had reached the outer edges of the village. Its wicked tongues flickered.

Smoke drifted towards us all. I dismounted, giving the horse to Keelia. Frantically, I ran through the village, yelling for anyone left. The flames leaped onto a cottage and hissed.

There was nobody in the village. Assured that I wasn’t leaving anyone in danger, I too ran out. Burning trees fell down all across the village. I yelled as I ducked past a burning log, crashing to the ground behind me.

Finally, I reached the others. We all regrouped and headed to the castle. It appeared that the duke and his party had returned there.

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“Thank you, Anwell,” the duke said. “It is thanks to your quick thinking and determination that all of our villagers escaped in time. I think I speak for everyone when I say we are indebted to you.” He bowed to me. I bowed back, not embarrassed this time. I deserved to be proud of myself. Meanwhile, my parents and Tiernay moved forward.

My father took a deep breath. “Son, I’m very sorry for the way I treated you today. I was rash and… well, there’s no excuse.”

“We should have listened to you.” Mother put in. “But… clearly, magic isn’t everything. And, I think we’ve judged you too harshly in that category.

I smiled. I knew that things between us would get better eventually. Time would heal old wounds, and hopefully, heal the damage that magic did. For the time being, I would be a hero. I also knew that my lack of magic didn’t define me at all; and I would never be disappointed in that again.

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CHRISTIAN DUEOakdale High SchoolMrs. Julia Showalter

Frederick County Reading CouncilShort Story10th Grade

2nd Place Winner

HERE THE OLD HOUSE LAY

Quite a good distance away from the bustle of urban life was a house, buried deep in the woods. She was a fine old house, very sturdy and well-built created in the summer of 1895. The house was vacant, she was only filled with some old and unwanted pieces of furniture that were left behind from her old owners, but for being rather old she was in great condition on the outside, one would never guess that she was built so long ago. Plants did not dare climb about her nor did any animals dare to wander in, her paint job did not chip and stayed bright white. The windows were spotless and reflected the light of the sun gracefully.

Not even the strongest hurricane or earthquake could bring her down. Despite her lovely appearance, the house was very lonely, and not so lovely within. She hasn’t been filled with human life since her family moved out during the harsh winters of 1896. Leaving her cold and empty, just like the winter weather outside. Inside she was old and worn out, cracks and chips were scattered about the walls. Most of the wallpaper began to peel off the walls and the staircases were so damaged and neglected that they were about to collapse at any minute.

On the inside one could see how truly damaged she was, how alone she felt. She wanted to be taken care of again, and in return she wanted to take care of a family. Oh, how she missed her dear, sweet family… Such a perfect family that lived in her. A family of three, or four if you count their trusty hound. Arguments were few and they had a strong bond with each other. The happiness of the house’s family made her happy, made her feel loved…

But sadly, her family left quite suddenly, believing she was haunted as she moved her furniture around, she only wanted their attention… What the humans didn’t know was that she was filled with life, not haunted souls. She remembered opening cabinets for her family when they wanted a bowl or sliding the chairs from under the table for them to sit, lighting their fire place to keep them warm during the cold months. Now she had no family to take care of, and every day she lingered on this thought. She played with the leftover furniture, the foot rest would run around the house like a dog which reminded her of the hound… She’d flicker the lights and make the furniture dance and sometimes she’d even create music from opening and drawers and squeaking doors, making the left-over furniture dance to the beat. This would remind her of the nights when her family would sing, when the hound would howl along, but playing with furniture could never bring these sweet moments back. Playing with furniture wasn’t enough for the house, for she wanted real life inside her.

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Many tomes, quite desperately, she tried to grab the attention of people, usually hikers who wandered by but never paid any attention to her. They always believed someone was till living in her due to her spotless complexion from the outside. They didn’t know how neglected she was from within, how desperate she wanted to be loved again, how worn out she felt despite seeming perfect. She wanted a family who would gather around the fire during winter and warm her up, a family who would eat dinner together. She didn’t even need a family! She just needed one living human, maybe a small child that she could take care of, which was something she was never able to do. Soon she realized she could have a child. Looking back to her family they had a child, she remembered how innocent children were, how sweet they were. She devised a plan, which required one thing: the third-floor bedroom.

This bedroom was special to her, she remembered the day the wallpaper was installed as she was built, a flock of birds flying over twisted vines. This was the only room that was completely intact and beautiful, like the outside. The house made sure the wallpaper would never peel. Many times, when she felt lonely, she’d use the birds as they could spring to life, they’d fly around and make sweet music for her. Slowly and gently she let one of the birds peel off, it perched itself on the nightstand and suddenly was three dimensional instead of flat. It fluttered and ruffled its wings. Being stuck to a wall for 122 years would certainly make one stiff! The window slid open and the bird flew out feeling the kiss of air, the kiss of freedom. Since the birds were connected to the house she could also feel the breeze. She let another bird peel off the wall as a nice breeze made the white satin curtains dance gently in the wind. The other bird flew out after the other and they glided along the treetops and together they flew in search of someone who could make the house feel whole again.

Not long after, giggling rang out through the woods leading the birds to fly in the direction of the sweet sound. Soon the birds saw a child, no more than six years of age. He had light and curly sun kissed hair, chubby cheeks that were painted with rose blush, sparkling blue eyes, and fair skin that glimmered in the sunlight. He was absolutely pure, absolutely perfect. The birds kept a distance away as they noticed his mother sitting on a picnic blanket talking to an older child, presumably an older brother. Soon the child saw the birds and smiled widely.

The birds flew away in hopes that he would follow, and did he follow those birds, he ran as fast as his little legs could take him and he did not stop. It was a wonder that he did not become exhausted, he did not stop when his mother called out for him. Eventually he found himself in front of the gorgeous Victorian house, which is when he finally stopped running, to bask in the glory of such a well-crafted house. It was stunning and pure white, it didn’t even have a smudge of dirt anywhere. No chipping of paint or cracked windows, nor vines growing up the sides of the house. It was just perfect, too perfect. But this isn’t something a child would catch onto.

The child stood there, huffing softly as he finally felt the effects of running nonstop, he was a small child after all. Suddenly, his mother’s voice rang out through the forest in a desperate cry which made the small boy turn in surprise. The birds chirped to bring his attention back to the house, he turned back to the birds and giggled as they danced about him, they slowly grew nearer to the house who slowly opened her doors. Slowly but surely, he walked up the stairs to the

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door. He finally reached the doorway, staring into the lovely house, it was very warm and welcoming, it was warm unlike the fall weather outside… Looking inside, he was suddenly overwhelmed.

The small of grandma’s baking… The fresh breeze that pecked his cheeks when the doors first opened, like a mother would to her child. He could taste the cotton candy in his mouth, his favorite treat. The birds chirping gave him a sense of security, the birds seemed to whisper in his ears, telling him that everything was okay… He felt like he was truly home now.

Inside the house was stunning. The cracks and chips were no more, the walls were spotless and pure white, the floorboards had a lovely gleam to them, natural sunlight poured in through the windows as a breeze from outside let the white curtains mover freely, gracefully… If this wasn’t heaven, what was? Everything was clean and brand new. The house was healing herself, preparing herself, she knew that she wouldn’t be alone now, and she no longer felt damaged.

As the boy stood in the doorway, absolutely amazed, the birds got a bit impatient and gently nudged him on the back to push him closer. He finally stepped inside, and the doors slammed shut behind him and he let out a startled screech which was so loud it frightened the birds in the woods, his cry made them take to the skies. No longer was the forest calm and serene, it was filled with fright and every animal knew it. His cry echoed through the woods where his poor mother and brother continued to cry out for him. Now the house had him, and inside her he’d stay. She finally had a human again, a small child to take care of, forever. To this day, one hundred years later, his horrified screams can be heard by anyone who dares venture into the woods where the old house lay.

KATIE MONAGHANC. Milton Wright High School

Mrs. Sarah MaleshHarford County Reading Council


1st Place Winner

ARTIFACT 2200.8.16

This is a copied version of a paper found in a box of old fire kindling. The fragment is the first and only personal record found from the Stygian Period. To this day,

archeologists are unsure if it was placed there for concealment, or if it was tossed aside by accident to burn. Either way, the paper seems to be a fragment of a

memoir. The only writings found before this time are from its predecessor, the Digital Age…

I’ve been told that when it’s cold inside the Boundary, it’s boiling Outside; even now I catch myself thinking that, which never ceases to amaze me considering the events of that particularly bitter day on the Stretch. It was an unprecedented cold. Strange enough to be wandering of one’s own volition in solitude, it was even stranger, I suppose, for me to have been out in that weather. I

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did, of course, have a destination charted in mind. That is irrelevant. The Stretch was my pathway, was most people’s pathway, and I knew quite well that on cold days it would be empty.

I shivered and fumbled with the buttons of my coat. The wind buffeted them away and I gave up, swallowing chilled spit and clenching my jaw. High, thin brick walls rose up from the sides of the Stretch, which was inordinately wide for what I thought at the time had only ever been used for walking. Every now and then, metal posts with colored signs rose from the ground, with chipped white lettering and symbols I couldn’t understand. I always kept to the sides. I cannot explain why I always did this. There was some odd, utterly compelling instinct in me that bade me stay on the sides’ white painted lines – ‘shoulders,’ I’ve heard them be called -- rather than trudge down the center on those yellow dashes you could sometimes see through the vines and dirt. Even the grassy, tree-covered ‘medians’ seemed too unnatural for me. I had always wondered why the Stretch was so big, or why its asphalt had been painted black with its dashed lines and patterns.

A rustling in the bushes relieved me of my thoughts. “Why do they have those patterns?”

“Avy!” I jumped, and the youth laughed delightedly. “You didn’t know I was here!” He whooped, skipping in front of me and then

slowing. “I startled you.”“That’s not it,” I said in, shaking my head to clear it. “And I don’t know

why.” I realized then that he had come through one of the doors. The doors were

cut into the walls that enclosed the Stretch, and most were overgrown with ivy and kudzu. No one used them. No one ever had, I thought. What had Avy been doing behind them?

“I was following a hare,” he said, and I jumped in my mind this time.“You cannot possibly be a telepath,” I said with amusement, and was

relieved to see his confusion. After a pause, I continued, “You see—““Oh.” He nodded. “See? You answer things, too. You knew I’d wonder.”I took a moment to absorb this. “Why didn’t you ask aloud?”“You never do.” He seemed to fear this would offend me; his next words

were hurried. “But don’t worry, I know you think them. The questions, I mean.” We walked along in silence for a minute, him baring his freckled, pale face

against the wind and I keeping my head bent. He was provocative in his plainness. There were no medals, no ribbons or prizes pinned to his shirt. Avy absentmindedly dismissed the notion of supplemental prestige. A faded orange coat, dirt-stained pants, and standard-issue gray boots – his attire was as barren of décor as the Stretch was of other people. As usual, his eyes flew rather than drifted. They glanced at invisible yet incredibly detailed objects that caught him in a second of rapture before his gaze alighted upon mine and held.

“Ever wonder what the sky’s like out there?” He said in a rush, and I smiled.He had not been this way as a younger child. A few pivotal years older than

he, I had watched him grow to what we were now; I knew that when we were too

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young to contribute, he had watched the self-educated in silence, before they had disappeared for reasons all of us – even Avy – knew better than to ponder. He’d watched from the shadows just as I did when I was his age. But then he had begun to mimic them, clumsily executing his perceptions of their intents, learning to think just as they did – as such, in ways they had only thought of after purposeful consideration, ways that sprung into his mind and filled it without a glance. No, his inquisitive nature was a result of unstructured initiative, and that was why it was deemed disagreeable.

“The Outside is very different from our world,” I said in answer, “but no, I see no reason to consider its sky. It is the same sky.”

“You’ve never been there,” said Avy, and instead of condescension his voice was full of wonder. “None of us have been there. It could be better than ours, you know.” His optimism did not falter as he added, “Or worse!”

I laughed. “What’s been making you think about the sky?He kept walking, but I could tell this made him want to stop for a moment.

His ungloved fingers tapped without rhythm at his side. They were blue with cold. I looked up briefly as he gathered his thoughts. The Stretch had been slowly curving, in a curve so wide I had barely noticed. Large metal poles supported flat, blacked-out boards. I could see traces of lettering in font bigger than my hand beneath the chipping paint. This entire time, I had been perfectly aware that my destination was behind me. It seemed a poor excuse, however, to state this while having the opportunity to listen.

There were several things he pointed out – the roof over our heads, the papers he had snatched from the wastebaskets, the coldness of the air, the lake’s reflection of a sunset. I saw all of them. They rushed into my mind in cold, crisp visions that filled to the brim and then rose in a blurry fog as I exhaled, the images Avy had imagined lost but their essence an electrical burn in my brain. I supposed it wouldn’t make sense for Avy to care where his reasoning came from; but I was interested, and understood the importance over the next few paces, the images untangled into thoughts at each meter. The question was a representation of all we did not know in one question, whether he knew it or not.

“You are curious,” I said. It had been years since I had read that word.He had been watching me with hope, and now his shoulders slumped with

disappointment. “People do call me strange.”“No, I mean you ask questions for yourself,” I corrected him. His confusion

was understandable. ‘Curious’ had not been a compliment for decades, judging by the age of the elder I’d heard it from. “Most people can’t ask that question.”

“If we can’t ask the question, we have to answer the question ourselves.”“No, I meant that they are unable to.”“That’s disheartening.” He skipped suddenly, and his face split into a

snaggle-toothed grin. “If we can’t ask the question,” he repeated, “we have to answer it ourselves!”

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I smiled for a moment before realizing the implications. “Avy. We can’t go Outside. No one has.” I lowered my voice. “It would be nice for you to know, one day.”

“We should find out.”“You ought to.”I looked up. I had been doing this periodically – somewhat embarrassedly –

after his mention of the sky. It was the same color as always. The Stretch changed beneath our feet for a while: an exciting switch from black to slightly lighter black. I could no longer feel the uncaring warmth of the dwellings behind us. I looked behind me. The brick walls of the Stretch were gone. With a dulled reaction, I realized I had never been this far from home.

“I would like to know, I suppose,” I said, half-humoring him. But then I relented. “I want to know.”

It was as if there had been a quiet ambience in the background, only now it seemed to have stopped. What I had thought was pleasant, natural quiet now dropped to reveal total silence. I don’t know what had been there before it. Maybe it had been the wind. Maybe there had been a song on my mind. Yes, I think now; it was definitely in my mind. But all of a sudden, there was nothing, and in a moment of instinct I froze where I was.

Avy drifted on for two more steps, then, without looking back, stopped walking as well.

“Look up,” he said softly.I glanced sideways. His gaze was fixed firmly on the endless Stretch before

us.“No,” I said, swiftly, and kept my own eyes on the ground.“Three.” I balled my fists in my pockets.“Two.” Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see him raise his hand.“One,” I whispered just a heartbeat before him. “One.” With unreasonable apprehension, we looked up. And one of us staggered

back in amazement. “It’s blue!”

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LYRA HOUGHTONQueen Anne’s County High School

Ms. Laurie ElbenUpper Shore Reading Council


2nd Place Winner

THE SUM OF OUR DEEDS

Text unavailable

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PARKER CRANDALLBroadneck High School

Mrs. M. GirouxAnne Arundel County Reading Council


1st Place Winner

TONES

It’s three a.m.

The entire firehouse is dead quiet. The bunkrooms are pitch black, save for the minute sliver of ethereal moonlight wafting its way through the smallest gap in the blackout curtains covering the windows.

For the briefest second, there’s a faint, high-pitched noise- but it’s enough to wake me up immediately. Then, tones. One, two, three – right after another, the gong sound peals through the rooms. The bunkrooms are bathed in an alien green glow, and there’s a clicking noise every other second.

The halls are alive.One by one, my team flows out of their sleeping areas: The male bunkroom,

the female bunkroom, even the rec room. They hop on one foot as they pull on their Dickies over their pajama pants. They pause and bend over to yank on muddy, scuffed leather boots. The observing students scramble to get their spot on the medic - and there’s only one. Some of them run across the expanse of the apparatus bay in their socks, their boots clutched in one hand, their phone in the other. The voice of the dispatcher crackles in over the speakers above: “Company 7,” says the woman, monotonous, uncaring, “Ambulance 792, Paramedic 13 for cardiac arrest…” The bay goes insane as the dispatcher rattles off the address, ending with the time: “3:07.” Everyone is yelling. The firefighters are out. The garage bay doors are groaning as they rattle open. The apparatus flicker to life and everything is red, everything is glowing, and flickering, and noisy – everyone is talking, and no

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one is listening but we all somehow know which unit we’re supposed to jump on, and maybe that’s all that matters. Moments later, we’re screaming down the street to the house of a stranger, and all I can think of is the advice that was given to me on my first cardiac call months ago: “They’re already dead. You can’t make ‘em any deader. All you can do is help at this point.” The ambulance cab bounces wildly, tossing myself and the observer around like ragdolls. I manage to hook my hand around a rail on the ceiling, steady enough to grab glove after glove out of the cardboard box above the door. I’m scared to death I’ll fall into it, knock it open, and be discarded onto the street. But of course, this doesn’t happen, and after I pass gloves through the opening to the front of the ambulance, I sit back down in the captain’s seat and hold onto the lip of the counter. Mercifully, the ride is short. With each passing second, this man’s chance at life dwindles. The second the ambulance jerks to a stop, I throw open the side door and leap out. The lights are still flashing, and the muddy yard is flooded with the flicker of amber lights. I yank open an external compartment, my hands immediately grabbing for the first-in bag, and once the bulky bag is strapped onto my shoulder I shove the compartment closed once more. My feet are on autopilot as I hurry through the garage, following the other providers through the door and down a set of stairs so narrow that I must hold the bag in front of me.

The basement smells like vanilla. The first door on my right is already open, and I turn the corner of it, slipping between the throngs of firefighters and EMS personnel gathered. It’s organized chaos, and the entire situation is terrifying for us all. I drop my bag beside the Life Pak, which has already been powered on by one of our providers and is being monitored by the paramedic. Someone I don’t even know is sitting at this man’s head, a ventilator bag in hand. He squeezes at even intervals while a close friend of mine pushes away at the man’s chest, his hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles are white. He is already sweating. The waiting begins. He compresses the stranger’s chest for a couple minutes before I offer to switch in – and after counting to three, he jumps out of the way, and I practically trip onto the man’s chest. However, despite how clumsy I was, the transition is practically seamless, and in less than a second I have replaced him as the primary CPR provider. My heart drops as I hear a few sickening pops arise from the man’s chest, and in a second I know I’ve broken even more of his ribs. Having a few broken ribs is better than being dead, though, so I keep on pushing. They don’t let me stay on his chest for long, and after a minute and a half they switch with me again. I’m so nervous, I forget to count to three and I simply hop away, leaving them scrambling to replace me. My shoulders burn and I’m out of breath – I don’t apologize. Instead, I look away as they pull out the IO drill; they’re going to drill into his bones to inject his medicines. When I wobble out of the bedroom, I see the man’s wife. She’s texting, or playing a game on her phone, or something – and either way, I resent her for it. She doesn’t see the look of disgust I give her, and I’m glad for it; it’s unprofessional, but on a call like this, everything goes out the window.

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I take one of the providers upstairs with me instead, choosing to ignore her actions and to go check on the man’s seven-year-old daughter. She is sitting upstairs on the couch, legs crossed. She is quiet as can be, but the most unsettling thing is the look of absolute clarity on the girl’s face. She is not curious, or scared, or confused- she is complacent and doesn’t ask any questions of us when we walk up the stairs. Instead, she gives us the most angelic little smile and we greet her. “Hello,” is all she replies with. There’s a brief pause, and then she asks, “Would you like to see my kitty?” Without waiting for a response, she exits the living groom and disappears down the hall, walking back with a stuffed kitten in her hand. She hands it to me and smiles at my coworker, who is looking down at her in confusion. He asks her how old she is. “Seven,” she answers proudly, smile never fading. “Seven?” I ask her, teasing. “I thought you were seventeen. Are you sure you’re seven?”All she does is giggle in response. Then her smile fades, and she stares at us, that terrifyingly lucid look present on her face once more. “Dad’s dead, isn’t he?” Never before have I felt my heart jolt like that, and since then I have not felt any fear stronger than I did right then. I glance at my coworker, who seems to be struggling for words as well. “He’s sick right now,” he answers seconds later, words chosen carefully. “He’s sleeping.” “So… Is he going to die?” Her eyes are searching ours, and while I expect her to look sad, I see no emotion on her face at all. I’m almost sure I’d rather see her sad.

We’re not allowed to lie to her.“We’re not sure,” is all I say, and we go back to distracting her. It’s easy. Her

mind is off the topic moments later, and we’re talking about her favorite colors, her best friends, favorite sports, movies – anything we can think of. She answers it all enthusiastically.

She likes pink. She has a lot of friends. She likes to swim, and she doesn’t have a favorite movie.

Every answer breaks my heart a little bit more. The rest of the family had been called and alerted to the situation, and at

this moment they enter through the garage, their eyes red and puffy and tears still hanging on their cheeks. They sweep the little girl up in their arms and promise they’re going to watch a movie and eat lots of popcorn, and does she want to go to the store later and pick out ice cream?

She does.The rest of the providers and firefighters come upstairs, and from the looks

on their faces I can tell the man is gone. My heart shatters for this little girl, who is, at this moment, unaware that her father is dead just a floor below her. We wait for the girl’s mother to come upstairs, touch our hands to her back, and we leave. It’s that quick. Though, it certainly isn’t painless.

We’re done, and we erase the call. The first-in bag placed back in its compartment. The seats are wiped down. The Life Pak is plugged back in. The cords are recoiled, and the sticky lead pads are replaced.

We drive back to the station in total silence.

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Upon arrival, it’s always the same: the moment our feet touch the concrete of the apparatus bay we go back to coping. Only this time, the jokes are a touch less sincere. Our routines feel a little bit more focused. The burgers they cook are a little too overdone. The heart of the reheated pasta is a little too cold. The movies are too hard to focus on. And its like this every time.

It’s four a.m.We performed CPR on that man for half an hour. We gave him 30 minutes to

decide to come back to life, and his body chose no. When that happened, all we did was radio in his death and give up.It’s that easy to quit.I hate it.Every single call that we take steals a piece of each of us in return. These

holes are bandaged up with bad food and fake normalcy – that’s just how it works. Eventually, however, we run out of ‘pieces’ of us to give, and it’s too hard to continue trying. That’s called burnout, and it happens to every member eventually. Until then, we keep waking up at three a.m.

We keep picking up the old ladies that fall out of bed.We keep pushing on the chests of dead men whose hearts stop.We keep reassuring young mothers that their seizing child will be fine.We keep doing our jobs as well as we possibly can. It just gets a little bit

harder each time. Things are not as they once were. We are not as we once were. And that’s

okay.

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BREANNA GENTERHarford Technical High School

Mrs. Tammy TaylorHarford County Reading Council


2nd Place Winner

MANDATORY KINDNESS

Picked up the soda can that was on the ground. Tossed it into the trash, hoping that the office lady on the bus stop bench noticed it. She did, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard a ding in my earpiece and seen a +5 in the corner of my eye. Smart contact lenses. We all had them, thanks to Mem, Inc.’s funding. They’re a corporation that was founded here. And wouldn’t you know it. I walked past an advert for “Exceptional Student Grant”, courtesy of Mem, Inc, just now. High school juniors only, 3.0+ GPA. I didn’t glance back to see what the screen showed to the next person who walked past it. A Mem, Inc. mask nearly fell out of the side pocket of my backpack, and I stuffed it back in. I got it a few days ago, when they were handing them out for free. Right after I lost my backup. So, I wound up taking it. You do not breathe the Pittsburgh air in without one of those on, unless you’re interested in going out the slow and painful way. Seriously, jumping off Carnegie’s roof would be more efficient than that. But moving on…

As I walked past a woman to take a seat on the bus stop bench, I took note of the 450 above her head. Jesus, what did she do to earn herself such a low net Social Score? I admit to getting curious and pulling up her profile. Rebecca Queens, 450, age: 31, official friends: private. Multiple reports of littering, public intoxication, anti-immigration speech, racist insults, aggressive driving that led to her license suspension… I decided not to make small bus stop talk.Instead, I pulled out my phone and tapped the Mary icon. A black-haired office lady greeted me. She’s been a familiar fixture in my life since the age of seven, back when my parents got me my first phone. It was a free Mem, Inc. one, since my parents were (and still are) employed by them. Upgrading from those has been a proud moment for this new immigrant family, I admit. Felt like we were moving up in the world, you know?

And my copy of the Mary program has seen it all. Its data is linked to my Mem, Inc. profile, after all. Makes me want to barf. Both the fact that it’s got all this info on me and the fact that I can’t leave it. Too attached. Both to all the reminders and health care directives, and to its pre-programmed encouragements and “personality”. She’s like an ungodly crossover between Cortana and Baymax, I guess.

“So, Mary, what’re today’s reminders?” I typed in, despite myself. Didn’t feel like opening my mouth around Ms. Queens and potentially getting hassled for my admittedly terrible pronunciation.

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“Well, you’ve got a test in first block that you appear to be prepared for. Still, do please review for it during the commute, just to be on the safe side. Also, you’ve got volunteer work during lunch,” she replied into my earpiece. Still sounded too even and clear, even after years of updates.“Alright, thanks. Mind putting on Written by Wolves for me?”“Not exactly optimal study music, but alright. Good luck on your test, dear.”“Thanks.”I plopped into my usual seat behind the driver and pulled up the notes on my phone. I only had thirty minutes to review for the mid-unit test in history.Crystalline Virus. A possible bioweapon, since a lovechild of polio and cancer doesn’t just randomly mutate into existence overnight. Three stages. Stage one is spinal cord growths, stage two is their spread all over the body and major nerve damage, and stage three is their invasion into the patient’s skull. Cue fatal brain damage.

Anyways, lazy exposition over. Trust me, there’s more to my notes, but we can ignore the other five pages here. The story of how it wiped out half of Saint Petersburg’s population is irrelevant here. Wasn’t even born back then, in fact.

The first thing that greeted me when I got off the bus was, appropriately enough, an emergency notice about its new strain on my phone. Not covered by the vaccine yet, spread through swapping spit, etc. So, no change to transmission method. Doesn’t respond to the usual medications for the issue and has killed one hundred percent of those infected so far. It’s like 2040’s all over again.At any rate, my walk to school was otherwise uneventful. Walked past more ads (Call of Duty: 2075, Walking Dead: 2100, Team Troika 3…), pushed through the crowd that was piling out of the school buses, and walked into the building. Waved at a couple of teachers. Walked past a bunch of people on their phones and school-issued netbooks. Some AR Cards Against Humanity going on in the cafeteria. Obviously, everyone involved had senior IDs floating above their heads. The true benefit of sucking up to the teachers for four years and just not caring about the consequences anymore. This is the sort of upperclassman I aspire to be in two years, for the record.

Finally found Liz. Messy bun, pajama pants, and a coffee thermos. Playing AR checkers with… Kylie Pines (1300, age: 15, number of friends: private, haven’t met her before, must be in merit classes) while clearly struggling to keep her eyes open.“Morning. You ready to crush first block?” I asked, for politeness’ sake.“Well, I crammed till twelve and then took the time to catch up on Walking Dead. Never again.” Sure, that’s what you said last month, Liz. I’d advise you to reconsider this life decision of yours, but I don’t want to get reported for rudeness if you’re feeling uncharitable today. Not that I’m worried, since it’ll only be a 5-point hit to my 1600, but you know… I want to hit that perfect 1800 soon. Colleges like that. Still, it’s nice that you’re beating someone besides me at checkers, for a change.“Yeah,” I said with a chuckle, “also did a fair bit of cramming. Then played a few matches of Overwatch and turned in.” At 21:00, in case you’re wondering. But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I guess I sounded relatable enough, seeing as I got that +5 ding after that. I returned the favor, for “being a hard worker”.

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The bell rung after that. We started walking past the people who were closing down their AR games, while saying “have a nice day” to the nearby teachers. Into the hallway, where we said “hello” to yet more teachers. Then, we entered our classroom, said “good morning” to our history teacher, and got out the notes.

Regular paper copies only here, for the sake of looking classy and on-task. She sometimes gave people with those things points for “studying hard”, if she was in a good mood. We’ll fast-forward past the part where I stared at them for five minutes for appearances’ sake, alright?

Then, she passed out the tests. It was all familiar.Appeared right around the time of the North Korean-American Crisis. Paralyzed multiple governments since their politicians insisted on meeting in one location and getting catering, a few months into the outbreak. But hey, their idiocy finally got the disease the top billing on WHO’s priority list, so that’s nice. Only took a few years and a few billions for the vaccine to get developed after that.

Lazily-presented exposition dump over. It got me an A, before you ask. The rest of the class was nothing interesting. We read about the economic crisis, the changes to the assisted suicide laws for the sake of 3rd stage patients, and the Crystalline Survivor Network. Then answered some worksheets and were allowed to do whatever. So, I pulled out my phone and started prepping for my lunch date.

Alice Brennie, age: 14, 1610 (score currently frozen due to extenuating circumstances), number of friends: 10. Hospitalized due to that mutated strain of Crystalline Virus two weeks ago. Alternated between taking online classes, watching anime, and playing competitive Overwatch during that time. That last bit is apparently why I was considered the best “companion” option for her.

Oh, right. I didn’t mention it earlier, but I give up my lunchtime to video chat with the younger patients. They get lonely while quarantined. And I get dozens of points for this bit of volunteer work. Very high probability of death from the various complications for them aside, it’s a win-win situation!

You’re probably interested in this part of my story the most, aren’t you? I mean, you’re here for the stories of my volunteer work, right? So, let’s fast forward past the other two blocks. I promise that you won’t miss much. Unless you’re interested in listening to me complain about equations and having to write an essay about The Catcher in the Rye.

So, let’s pick up right after I turned in that essay and said “have a nice day” to the teacher. That netted me five points, by the way. Never underestimate the value of politeness.

Anyways, I stuffed my long-suffering laptop into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed for the library. The hallway traffic was mercifully light today and I was thanking my lucky stars for that for most of the power walk. Because there’s no experience more annoying than pushing through a bunch of lost freshmen,

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chattering sophomores, bored juniors, and devil-may-care seniors. Oh, and a bunch of couples who think that they’re being subtle by making out in the dark corners.

Point is, the two minutes that I’ve taken to get to the library felt mercifully brief today. The minute that I spent on unmemorable polite chit-chat with the librarians (+5!) also didn’t feel too bad. And my laptop actually cooperated the first time I’ve pressed the power button in the quiet room in the back! So, yeah, today’s my day.

And then I logged on to Skype and opened up Alice’s profile. What greeted me was a complete waste of my nerves and time. And a loss of a +24, at least.

SpammyDVaMain: “Sorry, Kat. My Stage III paperwork was processed earlier than expected, so I’m having my medically-assisted today. Like… I already lost an eye to the crystalline tumors and lost my ability to speak due to the brain damage. So, I managed to talk my mom’s boss into letting her eat lunch with me, said goodbye to her, and asked for the doctor. Couldn’t handle the pain anymore.”“Sorry for wasting your time. Please tell your service learning advisor that the patient you were supposed to cheer up died of unexpected complications. And that she was sure that you’d get a 100/100 on your feedback form. You might still get points out of me yet, right?”

I just silently closed the program, turned off my laptop, and stuffed it into the bag. Exited the room. Hastily waved goodbye to the librarians (+0). Stalked into the bathroom.And stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t feeling much about that girl’s death. She unwisely kissed someone infected and it ultimately killed her. It happened to dozens of other patients. It probably hurt their families, I guess.As for me?Oh, I missed out on an opportunity to earn myself more points. Dead patients and cancellations are useless to my record.And so, after staring into the mirror for a minute, I exited the bathroom and headed towards the service learning advisor’s room.Maybe I’d still be able to snag myself a different patient for tomorrow. Preferably a Stage I or II, this time around.

ANNA BORISOVAOakdale High SchoolMrs. Julia Showalter

Frederick County Reading Council

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