Contest Winners Booklet, 2014              Sponsored  by    

 

 

 

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This year marks the 15th anniversary of the Young Southern Student Writers (YSSW) contest. The contest, sponsored by the Southern Lit Alliance and the Department of English at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, grows each year as it continues to highlight the outstanding creativity of the region's best young writers and their teachers. Board and staff members from the Southern Lit Alliance, under the guidance of Executive Director, Susan Robinson, deserve our thanks for their generosity and for their efforts in supporting this year's contest. I am also grateful for this year's readers/judges of the submissions. It is true that every entry is read by a member of UTC's Department of English. These faculty members do so with great generosity and much pleasure. I am grateful for their time, their enthusiasm, and the care with which they read the YSSW submissions. I would especially like to thank our region's dedicated teachers, K-12, who encouraged their students to submit entries. More than that, I am grateful for their efforts as they teach young authors to enjoy the craft and life-long skill of writing. Without our elementary, middle grades, and high school teachers and parents, we would not have such fine work from these young people. Likewise, I thank Yvonne Artis, who provides administrative support for UTC's Composition Program, and Laura Duncan, a graduate student in UTC's MA program in English. They both spent countless hours managing the contest and collecting the winning entries for this online publication. They were dedicated and tireless in their efforts. Finally, I acknowledge the leadership and service of this year's Young Southern Writers Committee, a group of UTC English faculty which includes Marg Jackson (committee chair), April Green, Matt Guy, Rick Jackson, and Krista McKay. Thank you for your collaborative spirit, your enthusiasm, your ideas, and the energy you spent to support these young writers. More than 4,200 students from schools in the Chattanooga area, as well as schools from north Georgia and Alabama, submitted entries this year. This was an especially strong year of quality submissions from our young Southern writers. Keep up the good work, teachers and students alike! Now, read and enjoy!

Joe Wilferth, UC Foundation Professor Department of English University of Tennessee at Chattanooga

Department of English  

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[  Order  Out  of  Chaos  ]

Winning submissions are arranged in sections that are themselves organized by grade and category, i.e., Kindergarten Prose, Kindergarten Poetry, Grade 1 Prose, Grade 1 Poetry, etc. Within each section, entries are arranged alphabetically according to the authors' last names.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Middle  and  High  School  

 Grade 6 Prose…………………………………………………………………………...3 Grade 6 Poetry…………………………………………………………………………23 Grade 7 Prose…………………………………………………………………………. 29 Grade 7 Poetry…………………………………………………………………………51 Grade 8 Prose…………………………………………………………………………..61 Grade 8 Poetry…………………………………………………………………………79 Grade 9 Prose…………………………………………………………………………..88 Grade 9 Poetry…………………………………………………………………………91 Grade 10 Prose…………………………………………………………………………93 Grade 10 Poetry………………………………………………………………………..99 Grade 11 Poetry………………………………………………………………………103 Grade 12 Prose………………………………………………………………………..108 Grade 12 Poetry………………………………………………………………………110    

   

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[  6th  Grade  Prose  ]   The Colored Canvas The entry of the sky every day is most dramatic. First it's just the sky lightening. Up it goes. A bright ball of fire comes from the ground and sends streaks of light into the drab of morning. Orange, pink, purple, and blue all shoot across the sky like bullets. All surround the centerpiece, the masterpiece, the beautiful, the light, the sun. Soon all of the world soaks in light after waiting a night of darkness. It is only the beginning of the show. Next, after the intro of the day, a new actor wanted to join the production. Of all of the shades, the most beautiful level of blue rises from the ocean to the sky. The other colors give way to the natural. Blue and yellow cooperate, and the heavens come alight with their glory. People below look up to the colors for advice on beauty. The comeliness gets great reviews, and the show is not over. In the final scene to this magnificence, there is an act of betrayal. Some may think that this is the sky's only flaw. Whoever they are, they are wrong. Flaws show beauty which is what also happens in this performance. The first scene is replayed, the same colors come out, and they put on the same show. This time though, they take away the blue, and try to destroy the sun. They cannot. Soon the sky is black with the mix of colors who came and made an unauthorized scene. Now, the sky shows only holes of heaven, even if it is not the whole magnum opus, it is still a work of art. That was the last scene. The audience loved the performance as they do every time. The actors now go to reorganize for the next show which is in only a couple of hours. Colored streaks appear on the dark black, as the painting lightens, and the yellow washes over the painting, filling the canvas in all of its glory and majesty. Now blue try's to enter the picture, covering the once vibrant colors like a blanket. The blue and yellow share the canvas for a long time, but little did they know that the greedy colors they had diminished were plotting themselves into the painting. Soon they do; at first just streaks, then they completely over come the blue, yet the yellow shines on. Not for long though, soon even the main color gives up the fight. Now instead of staying beautiful and vibrant, these colors have become greedy, they want the whole portrait for themselves. They get it. Only letting small dots of the once candescent yellow radiate. Soon enough, the whole cycle will start over, and light will return to the oil. This is a script that the actors follow with passion. The sky is a piece of work which a creator made. He put it there for beauty just as a director does. He also said that it was good, which the audience agrees with daily. Maybe in this story the actors are just colors; but you have to admit that they put on quite a show.

Morgan Burnette 6th Grade Baylor School Ms. Cohen

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Slender “Who’s there? Hello!” I shouted. “is someone there?” As I walk in the woods carelessly, I soon got lost and I think I am being watched by something in the woods. It’s just right there staring at me like I am not there—wait, it vanishes. I think it saw me. I been in these woods for like 3 hours now, so I call that thing that I saw earlier “slender man.” Slender man is a dark figure with no facial features and is very slender and has arms coming out of his back and has on a black suit with a gray tie. He’s been watching me for the past hour and seems to scare me a lot. Every time I see him I run away. It seems like he’s following me, but each time I check, he gets closer and closer. I think he’s right there. He’s walking to me-- that’s when I started to run. Right when I started to get farther away, I fell hard. When I got up slender man was standing above me. I screamed as loud as I can. I got up and started to try to defend myself. I grab a stick while I was on the ground and stuck it in his head. He pushed me away very hard. I hit my head on a rock. As I was about to lose consciencness, I saw slender man pull the stick out of his head. After that it was just black. I had passed out, but when I woke up it was in bed. It was all just a dream, but I still wonder, is there a real slender man and is he always watching?

Anthony Debardeleben 6th Grade Dalewood Middle School Stephanie Brewer

Oscar and Alphonse My name is Emma Parker. I live on 7103 Oakes View Lane. My birthday is May 16th. Today is May 1st. As I get out of bed and get my school clothes on I hear, “Emma get down here!” When I get downstairs it smells really good. I walk through the TV room and push open the kitchen door. I see my favorite breakfast sitting on the table. Chocolate chip pancakes with butter and syrup. “Good morning sweetie,” says mom, “today is a very special day!” “I know and it’s not that special,” I tell her, “it could turn out like last year!” “What smells so good?” shouted my 15 year old brother interrupting the conversation, eyeing the pancakes. His name is Charlie and he the handsomest guy I have ever met. He is very funny and really nice. He grabs one of my pancakes and starts to eat very quickly. “HEY!” I shout, “Those are mine!” “Oh sorry, you can have the rest.” Replies Charlie. “It's fine. Just keep it.” “You know it’s a big day” says Charlie while finishing his pancake. “I know mom and I already had this conversation.” I tell him. “You better hope it doesn’t turn out like last year.” “Oh, I do hope!”

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“We better get going” says mom. “But what if it’s me?” I ask her. “Well I guess we will have to go and find out,” mom tells me, “there will be plenty other kids there, you will be fine.” As, we are driving down the road to the town center where everyone will be, I am trying to remember the previous year’s drawing winners…if you don’t know what the drawing is it’s an annual event where at the begging of every month everyone who has a birthday in that month will go to the town center for a drawing. In 1992 the winner was Hannah Samuel. In 1993 the winner was Mason Patrick. Last year, 1994, the winner was Macy Garrett. Macy has been my best friend since we were two. Here’s what happened… “Macy Garrett!” announces the spokes lady. Macy walks up on stage. “Choose a number 1-50!” “23!” says Macy as if she already knows what she had chosen. “Bring out the prize for number 23!” shouts the spoke lady into the microphone. Slowly it comes out in a blue and sand color box. The person who brought it out now starts opening it. “Congratulations Macy, you have won a trip to the Bahamas!” “YES!” shouts Macy. When she gets off stage she runs straight to me. “Good job.” I tell her. “Thanks…I was thinking up there, I can bring 4 other people with me… I only have a mom, dad, and 1 sister… and a best friend named Emma!” she says excitedly. “Really!?!?” I ask her “Really!” she says, “it just wouldn’t be the same without you!” “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I’ll go ask my mom if I can come!” My mom said yes, and we were on the airplane at 10:00 the next morning. “Thank you for flying Delta airways!” said a voice over the intercom, “please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy your trip!” The flight was starting. Once, we arrived at the airport in the Bahamas we grab our stuff in a hurry. We get off the plane and go inside. There were people from all different countries. China, Australia, France, Mexico, Scotland…pretty much anywhere you can imagine… I mean it looked like the World Trade Center. It was amazing! We rented a car to drive. We drove to our hotel, which was literally ON the beach! We all get our swim suits on, when we got to our room and went down the 3 flights of stairs. We walked out the back door, and there was beach! Macy and I run into the water, Macys 5 year old sister Madison or Maddie followed. We jumped in the water and started splashing, and running around, we jump off the docks and giant rock structures…it is so fun… Macy’s dad soon jumped in with a boogie board. “Hey girl’s want this boogie board?” asks Mr.Garrett. Macy grabbed the boogie board from Mr.Garrett, hopped on and went a little too far out in the water and shark jumped up and bit off her leg. She is still in a wheelchair and will never be able to walk again.

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“Here we are!” said mom interrupting my thought. I’m a little glad though. As we get out of the car I see tons of people. More than last year. I sign in and go to find Macy in her green wheel-chair. I run over and sit down right beside her. “Testing, testing! Oh good it’s working.” said the lady. “I will pick one name!” As the lady reaches in the giant glass bowl I see Macy start to tighten. I don’t blame her because I am tightening to. “Emma…Parker!” I am frozen for a few seconds, then walk up. “Choose a number 1-50!” “7…” I say. “Bring out the prize for number 7.” The man, same man as last year, comes out. The same clothes, same posture, same fake smile. Except the box is blue and black. He slowly pulls open the box. It is completely silent. As he finishes opening the box I hear whispers from the crowd. “What is it?” “Could it be…” “Maybe it’s…” “Congratulations Emma you have won two caterpillars!” These caterpillars seem different to me. They look different, act different, seem different. “What would you like to name them?” “Oscar,”… “And …Alphonse.” I say. “Those are two interesting names!” “Oscar is my dads’ name. He passed away 3 years ago. Alphonse is my grandfathers’ name. I tell her into the microphone. I run off the stage with my 2 new caterpillars. They are caged in right now. I see a folded up note inside. I run over to Macy. “Are you glad you aren’t going to the Bahamas?” asks Macy.

“It was cool, but yeah.” I reply. “Congratulations sweetie!” says mom, “that was very sweet of you to name them after your father and pop.” says mom starting to cry. In case you are wondering pop is moms’ dad. They did EVERYTHING together. “Time to get going to school.” says mom. “Ok, bye Macy see you later!” We pull up to Twin Branches Middle School, I walk inside get my tardy slip and head for my classroom. “Hey Emma.” I hear when I enter my social studies class. “Was it you?” asked Ben Donald. “Yes.” “Well…what did you win?” asks Kristen West. “Mm, hm!” says Mrs. Myers. I get home and rush straight to my room. I open the caterpillar cage and pull out the note:

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Dear reader, You have won this year’s drawing! You have 122 days with these caterpillars. These aren’t just any caterpillars. They can communicate. Enjoy your time with them! Sincerely, Mayor Tom

I pull out Oscar and Alphonse and set them on the ground. They start wiggling and soon spell out “hello” “Hello!” I reply. “My name is Emma.” “EMMA!” I hear from downstairs. It’s Charlie. I run down the steps to see Charlie. “Did you win?” asks Charlie. “YES!” I tell him. “Wow! What did you get?” “2 caterpillars. I named them Oscar and Alphonse.” “Want to come see them?” I ask. “Sure” answers Charlie. We walked up to my room and Charlie sat down on my bed. I sat down on the floor and picked up Oscar. “This is Oscar” I tell him. Charlie takes Oscar from my hands. I pick up Alphonse and hand him to Charlie. “I’m guessing this one is Alphonse?” “Yes.” I tell Charlie. It is day 118 with the caterpillars. Macy is over and we have built play equipment in the cage. We’ve built little homes, slides, jungle gyms, bridges, chairs, pretty much anything you can imagine. I’m thinking about 4 days from now. I don’t enjoy the thought, I just can’t stop. I give them a few leaves and they spell out “yum!” and I watch them run down the slanted brown bridge to get to the leaves. As they nibble away on the leaves Macy asks, “What are we having for dinner?” I know she’s just trying to get my mind off of thinking about Oscar and Alphonse. “Hot dogs with a side of apple-slices.” I answer softly. “Charlie, Macy, Emma!” I hear mom shout from down stairs. Getting down stairs for Macy is a bit of a problem. Macy is like family though, so Charlie carries her down the stairs, while I push her wheel chair. After dinner we go back to my room. Today is day 122 the caterpillars. The last day. I am out in the field behind house. I am keeping the cage so I will always remember Oscar and Alphonse. I knew it was time to send them back. The caterpillars softly wiggled in my hands spelling out “Goodbye.” “Goodbye.” I say with tears in my eyes. Mom is driving me to Mayor Tom’s house. When I arrive I ring the doorbell and Mayor Tom answers.

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“Why good evening miss Emma.” “Good evening.” I mumble, “its’ not a good evening anymore” I think. “Well thank you for returning them.” Says Tom. “You’re welcome” I hand them over and turn away crying. “Um…Emma…,” says Tom. I pause and turn around. “Would you like to keep them?” “REALLY!?!?” I ask. “Haha. Here you go!” answers Tom. “Oh, thank you!” Epilogue Emma is now a senior in high school and has opened a caterpillar farm. She named it “Oscar and Alphonse” and it is a big attraction to tourist from all over the world. She and Macy visit the Bahamas every summer together. Macy is also a senior in high school. She is now out of her wheelchair with a prostetic leg and plays for the school soccer team and runs for the schools’ track team. She has been asked by many college’s to join their soccer team and/or track team. Some her favorite things to do are run, play soccer, and swim. As for Charlie he graduated high school and became a mail man. He quit that job after 3 years and became a zookeeper. Then quit that and went to college. While in college he had a part time job as a rib cook off judge. He graduated college and became a construction worker in Bismark, North Dakota. He is still working as a construction worker and is helping build hospitals (inspired by Macy), he built Emma’s caterpillar farm, he has built houses, and hotels. He is still in Bismark and is living in a wonderful neighborhood with his wife, 3 children, and Border Collie, Oliver. Oscar and Alphonse lived 6 more years and died with a happy life behind them. The shark that bit off Macys’ leg was found. It died while being out of the water for so long.

Jenna Elston 6th Grade Hunter Middle School Mrs. Holmes

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Mystery in the Backseat “RRRRRRRRRRing!” School was finally out. I walked out to my locker, grabbed my Ironman backpack, then walked outside. For a moment the bright sunlight blinded me. I squinted for a moment then ran to my Mom’s car. She was standing there, with a huge grin, and a slight glint in her eye like she just got a pet SPIDER. I hate spiders! Anyway, when I got in the car, there was a box in my seat. It was covered in a ragged white towel. “What’s in the box, Mom?” I wondered aloud. “You’ll find out when we get home,” she replied. That day she decided to run ten derpzillion errands. Okay, so not that many. But still, a lot! Like 1200. Or 73. Or 20. Fine 4. After what seemed like an eternity, we got back to the house. It’s not the biggest house ever, but on the inside it’s a lot bigger than it looks. It’s made out of brick and has a dogwood tree out front. And, no, it does not bark! When we stopped, a scuffling, and growling sound came from the box. And through the holes in the towel, a dark shape moved. As we stepped inside, I said a little louder than I meant to, “Open the box! We’re home!” Mom set the box on the ground. I whipped the towel off, threw open the box, and…and…and….nothing happened. We waited….and waited….and waited….nothing happened. “It’s empty!” I barked. “RRRRRRGGGGGG! Nothing’s happening! I waited and waited, I went to the dumb store, I-!” I looked down. Two tiny eyes stared back, and I heard a tiny whimper. “-get a dog?” Mom finished my sentence. The tiny dog’s collar said Telsa. It was so small you could fit four of it in a first grader’s backpack. It was black with a tiny blotch of white on its chest. It looked like a Chihuahua but with a mini lab’s head and tail. Finally, a pet of my own. Smith Federico 6th Grade Normal Park Ms. Brown

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Lucky Guy I’m David Carlson, a self-employed writer, 32 years old, living in a New York City rent controlled walk-up. I love the city; the museums, the street smells, and the fact that you don’t need a car to get around. Walking the streets during the day, I search for a job and inspiration. I own a stand and sell books. At night I huddle in my apartment and write until I pass out at my typewriter. 10:00am My eyes slowly opened as I rolled over to sit up. I shielded my face from the sunlight that shone though the heavily smeared rusted windows. As my eyes adjusted I scanned the room to get my bearings. As usual, it was scattered with books and smelled of rotting food and other less defined odors. I got my shoes on and left. Entering the storage room in the lobby, I navigated through the dim lit room filled with other tenants stuff, knocking over a Barbie doll house as I pulled out my cart. I pushed the cart up 86th to Lexington Avenue, and set up. A man in a black suit approached, his short grey hair barely moved in the breeze that filled the street with appreciation on this summer day. He frowned at the books then looked up at me with a stern expression on his face. “Do you have any books by an author other than David Carlson?” “No,” I replied, I pointed to a novel and started to explain the premise, but it was no use. The man had already walked to Barnes and Noble. I started to reshelf the books that he carelessly shoved away. Focused on shelving, I hadn’t realized that a lady in a red dress had started reading my books. I looked up and was stunned by beauty. Her brown ruffled hair swayed in the wind. I haven’t even talked to her and I was in love. “How much is this one?” “Six dollars,” I replied. She placed the book down and started to fumble through her purse. “Are you from around here?” I asked shyly. She looked up with a smile, “Yes, I work at a bank, right up the street. But with this economy, who knows, I may be out of a job soon.” “With your looks, I am sure you have nothing to worry about.” She chuckled and gave me another warm smile. “Thanks, but around here, appearances aren’t everything. By the way, my name is Anna Halfway.” “David Carlson.” “Listen David, I gotta run. Perhaps I will stop by again after I read your book.” I decided to work everyday, just in case Anna came by. It worked, she began to make a stop at my book stand a ritual. Her interest in my writing seemed genuine. One evening, I was packing up my cart as Anna crossed the street to see me. “Hey,” she said walking towards me. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my apartment for a cup of coffee.” “Sure.” I followed her with my cart. A white gloved doorman greeted us. He parked my cart in a closet in the marble clad lobby. I was amazed at the grandeur of this building. When the bronze elevator doors opened, I felt I was stepping into another world. When they opened again I knew I had. Her living room was filled with artwork; the shelves were stacked with books by authors I adore. “Come on, I want to show you something.” I followed her through a

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white door. It was beautiful; just what I had always imagined, the most amazing sight in the world, a grand view of Manhattan seen from above on a warm summer night; Lights twinkling and couples socializing on balconies as the traffic spins continuously below their feet. “I just wanted to spend one night with you before I leave,” she said, her voice wobbly. “Leave?” I asked. Anna took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “I got a transfer to Georgia. My manager said I had few options. I pleaded, but he said they were cutting my position in New York. “I thought about you, but I had to take it.” With that she broke down in tears, and held me tight. After a minute or two I lifted her head and looked into her eyes that glistened into the nightlights. “Listen,” I said, “You’ll be okay, you will move to Georgia, and no doubt will meet a man ten times better then me. After a year or two you’ll forget about me, but you can bet you’re life I won’t forget about you. I love you Anna, but you have to go.” After my lecture I leaned down and kissed her. On my way out, the doorman presented me my book stand as I left the building. It was midnight as I headed down 86th Street. Thoughts of Anna filled my mind. There wasn’t even room for fear, when suddenly I was surrounded by four teenage boys. My heart sped. The tallest one took a swing at me, and I buckled over. They grabbed my wallet and took off. They didn’t seem interested in my books that were now strewn all over the sidewalk. Minutes later, a man came by and picked up my books. I was too upset to speak. Ironically, he didn’t notice my state, absorbed as he was in my books. Finally, he looked over at me. “What seems to be the problem?” I looked up at him, “A gang surrounded me and took my money”. “They have no taste for writing, these stories are quite good. Who is David Carlson?” “Me.” “Well David, I can help you. I am a publisher, and with your talents, I can get back the money you lost and then some. Do you want to call someone?” He handed me his cell phone and I dialed. “Anna, you don’t have to go to Georgia.”

Ethan Farnam 6th Grade Chattanooga School for the Liberal Arts Melissa Striker

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The Lost City Of Pompeii: The Final Resting Place of Over 16,000 People Life. Death. Pumice. Ash. Superheated mud and rock came tumbling down the mountain of Vesuvius. Much of what we know about the eruption of Mount Vesuvius comes from two letters written almost 2,000 years ago by Pliny the Younger. For many years people thought that his descriptions were just a joke, but now due to the vast knowledge of volcanic eruptions we have proven Pliny's descriptions to be true. For example, scientists have confirmed the exact date of the eruption found in his letter written on August 24, 79 A.D. Ever since the city of Pompeii was uncovered, our knowledge of Mount Vesuvius and its eruption has grown vast and wide. Archaeologists and volcanologists have discovered many things about Mount Vesuvius, but Pliny’s letters are still considered the most important because he saw the eruption take place. For example, we know that the eruption was a Plinian eruption, which is also known as a pyroclastic surge. Pliny described a pyroclastic surge that erupted from Vesuvius on August 24, 79 A.D. We can also confirm that the giant plumes of ash that fell from the sky and sucked the moisture suffocated the Pompeiians. The ash cloud's height was estimated to be as high as twenty two miles high. There was also another threat to the people of Pompeii: pumice. Pumice is a light rock, but when it comes hurtling toward earth at 100 miles-per-hour it could feel like a thousand pounds falling on you. On that day of August 24, 79 A.D. the city of Pompeii was engulfed by ash, pumice, and superheated molten rock. Lost for some time, it was rediscovered in 1599 and again in 1758, but that rediscovery was much broader than the one before. The difference in the things we know now about volcanic eruptions and the knowledge the Pompeiians had is a major difference. In 79 A.D., the only one who actually knew what was going on was Pliny the Elder, and even he did not know of the dangers that Mount Vesuvius was spewing out. People in Pompeii where not worried when earthquakes shook the ground, nor did they pay any heed to the black cloud lingering atop Mount Vesuvius. This is because Mount Vesuvius had been dormant for many years. Yet the many recent earthquakes had awakened the sleeping giant. In modern times, scientist would have known that the recent earthquakes where a sign that Mount Vesuvius was going to erupt soon. When Pompeiians saw the ash plumes rising from the volcano early in the day and felt the earthquake, they did not flee when they had time. This is because they did not know of the dangerous circumstances that where about to begin. Many people in Pompeii believed that the eruption was caused by the god Jupiter who was punishing their city for past decisions. We know today that this was not the work of Jupiter. Some scientists say another eruption from Vesuvius is long overdue and think that Pompeii will once again be buried. This time we will be ready, unlike the sixteen thousand that where buried alive on August 24, 79 A.D.

Lucia Jackson 6th Grade Baylor School Mr. Ward Fleissner

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Remembering the Stones There it sits on my sister's desk, growing old, waiting. No one is there to admire its beauty. Until one day....... "Hannah, look at this! This is so cool! Can I have these?" I squeal, ripping through her desk like a tornado, throwing unwanted things onto her bed. "Please," I say slowly, in that adorable kid begging way, picking my way through the pile of random objects, a stuffed dog here, a picture there, until I cautiously step up the desk chair. I clumsily reach for the top drawer of her desk. I'm tossing and hurling everything I don't want, trying to see if there's something magical. When I was that age, I believed in magic. When I look back on that day, I realize I found something not magical that day, but very special in its own way. I'm almost through to the dusty part of the sleek wooden brown desk when something catches my eye. "Maybe it's a fairy," I wonder, thinking about the possibilities. I take the wooden box out slowly, carefully, trying not to disturb whatever magical being lives inside it. The box is light colored with caramel colored streaks and a stamp on the side saying Precious, Brazil. "Awesome," I stutter, having no other words for what beauty lies inside. I step down from the chair in slow motion, wanting badly to rip open the wooden box, but I refrain until I jump on the bed like a flying animal, doing a small flip in the process. The box is slowly opened by my trembling miniature fingers, fumbling for it, trying not to spill what lies inside. I grasp a small stone, no, many small stones, and feel a wondrous expression settle on my chubby cheeks. The stones are perfect. They're marvelous! Yellows, blues, greens, pinks explode in different shapes and sizes in the box. Smooth, polished, round, pointed, and all have magnificent color that surrounds me in a bubble of beauty. I am awestruck. As years pass, I forget about that day of beauty. Soon, I move to a new city, a different state. When I unpack the boxes from my childhood, years before, I come across a box. It's petite and wooden. I open it quickly with slim, long fingers as I gasp. It's the stones, from a distant state, a different childhood, almost like another dimension. They're beautiful, and I hazily remember their glamour from years before. I finger them, thinking about the moment long ago from my younger self. I smile as I hug the dusty box to my chest. Another piece of my distant self, my old house that I never want to forget.

Rachel Kleban 6th Grade Baylor School Ms. Cohen

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Kate, Kim, and their New Family

Ding Dong! No one answered. Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Katie must have rung the doorbell one too many times. An elderly lady opened the door so hard it slammed Katie’s toes. Wincing over her foot, Katie asked the lady, “May I come in?”

“Oh you’re parents dumped you too, did they?” the woman snarled, “can’t blame ‘em can ya? I don’t want ya either!”

Was this what she expected of every child who showed up at her orphanage? Probably. “Actually,” Katie said as if they spoke different languages, “I’m a visitor. Remember? The one who was here last week, and the week before that, and…” The lady cut her off, “Oh! You! Sorry. Katie Johnson isn’t here.” She began to shut the door. Katie stopped it with her good foot.

“Her name’s Kimberly Johanson,” she said quickly, “Katie’s my name, and…” The woman cut her off again, “She’s not here! Go home!” She slammed the door harder this time and Katie decided it was time to leave. Where could Kimberly be? She never left the orphanage. Katie ran home to find

the house deserted. She kept forgetting her mother’d been working full time since Katie’s father had passed away. Katie was home alone often. It could be so lonely. She wanted her family back. Katie went up to her room and screamed. It was a mess! Books were everywhere, her bedding was all over the floor, and her clothes were thrown across the room. Wait. These weren’t her clothes. They were dirty, ripped, and worn. What dirty person was in her house? Katie carefully stepped farther into her room and tripped over a book she recognized. “Little House on the Prairie!” she exclaimed.

Then she whispered, “Kimberly?” A girl popped out from under the bed. “Ahh!” Katie screamed. The girl was tall, and extremely thin and pale. Her

blonde hair was cut in a choppy overgrown bob that was perhaps an inch above her shoulders. Her bangs would have covered her eyes if they weren’t pushed back by a brown headband that didn’t match her hair at all. Her clothes were old like those on the floor, so, naturally, Katie ran to hug her.

“Kimberly!” she cried. “Katie!” The two girls broke into hugs and giggles and screams, until Katie asked an

important question. “Why are you in my house?” Kimberly broke into tears. “They were terrible to me! They yelled at me! They

hit me! Then they tried to take my dog, Russel! So I ran away!” she wept. Kimberly hugged her. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” then her voice faltered, “You haven’t got Russel in here, have you?” “Oh,” Kimberly muttered, “Ee eno cosy. Cough, cough.” “What?” “He I ya conset.” “Kimberly?”

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“He’s in your closet, okay!” she yelled. “Okay,” Katie said, trying to control herself, “Let’s get you both cleaned up,

okay?” Katie took Kimberly into the bathroom. While Kimberly washed up, Katie picked

out some clean clothes for her and bathed the dog. While Kimberly dressed, she had time to clean the mess in her bedroom.

Kimberly walked out of the bathroom. She looked great! Her skin glowed and her green eyes sparkled, but her smile was the brightest of all.

Both girls were very happy. That is until they heard the door open. Normally, hearing he mother home early would have thrilled Katie, but not today. “Kimberly! Hide!” Kimberly dove under the bed. Katie ran downstairs to meet her mother. “Mom!” she cried. “Kate!” said her mother. Katie’s mom always called her Kate. She liked that. “Oh, mom. You should know…” “Yes?” “Well, we have a visitor.” “Who’s that?” asked Mom.

Katie was about to tell her, when Russel ran down the stairs. “Arf! Arf!”

“Aw!” said Katie’s mother, “Is this our visitor? He’s so cute, oh yes, he’s so cute!” “Yeah!” said Katie, relieved, “Yeah, that’s our visitor. His name’s Russel!” “Aw,” Katie’s mom cooed, “I love this little guy!” “Great, I’m going upstairs now!”

Katie’s mom gave her a strange look, but didn’t protest. Katie ran upstairs. “Hey, Kim?” Katie asked. “What’s she gonna do?” Kimberly screamed as she got up so fast she hit her head on the bed.

“It’s okay!” Katie said, “She doesn’t know! I mean, she does know about Russel, but she loves him!” “Yay!” “You know we’ll have to tell her eventually.” “Oh…That stinks”. Kimberly made a face Katie couldn’t help but laugh at. “Don’t worry,” she said, “Mom will understand.” “I hope so.” That night, Kimberly slept under the bed, although Katie was sure she read Little House on the Prairie all night. How many times had she read that? Katie knew she loved the family. So did Katie. She loved how the family stuck together, no matter what. That’s when something in her head clicked. Kimberly needs a family. Katie knew what she had to do. The next morning, Katie got up at seven. Kimberly was still asleep. She ran to her mom’s room.

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“Mom?” she whispered. “Yes Kate?” answered her mom, “You’re up early.” “I know. Mom, say I had a friend. Then say that friend didn’t have a family. No one wanted her. Would you take her in?” “Sure, why?” “Kimberly’s upstairs asleep under my bed.” “Oh my goodness Kate! You’re kidding!” Mom got up and made a phone call. She wasn’t going to work that day. “You better wake up Kimberly,” said Katie’s mother. Katie obeyed. She went straight to her room. “Kimberly, you’ve got to get up. Mom’s in here.” Kimberly rolled over, yawned, and rubbed her eyes. “Do I have to go back”, she said. “I don’t think so.” “Well, girls,” she said, “It looks like we have a lot to talk about.” She was right. They did. After hours of explaining, crying, and even laughing, they came to a conclusion. Mom called the orphanage to tell them Kimberly wasn’t going back. They were so happy. That’s how Kim and Kate’s new family got started.

Sofia McDonough 6th Grade Chattanooga School for the Liberal Arts Melissa Striker

The Day My World Froze

I rushed into my house and threw my Converse to the floor. I looked around quickly, nearly giving myself whiplash as I turned my head side to side. A quiet, “Violet, out of the way,” came from my sister as she nudged me out of the doorway. I moved a little to the side as my mom came in. I sighed sadly as I watched her hurry to her room and slam the door shut behind her. I turned my attention to the blinking Christmas lights on the tree in the living room. “That tree is gonna be surrounded by tons of presents in just a few hours,” I thought to myself as I stalked off to my room and slumped onto my bed. I shut my eyes and thought about where we’d been. I walked down the polished hallway with a small Christmas present in my hand. I looked at the numbers on each door and grunted quietly when I found the right room. “Finally,” I thought, as I slowly nudged the door open, making it whine on its hinges. I stepped inside and immediately noticed my grandfather lying on the hospital bed, his chest gently moving up and down. He looked awful. Sickly yellow and weak. He barely managed a smile.

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“Hi, Grandpa! Merry Christmas,” I said quietly, and I prayed he didn’t’ hear my voice crack. “Hello, Miss Violet,” he said, coughing weakly. We just stared at each other until I came to my senses and handed him his poorly wrapped Christmas mug. “Thanks, I—” His sentence was cut off when my mom shuffled in. I decided to leave them alone and sat in a chair just outside his room. I heard muffled sobs and soft, “I love yous” from the other side of the door. “Girls, you can come in now,” Mom called to my sisters and me after a few minutes. We all exchanged presents and talked for hours. All too quickly, though, we had to leave. I was about to doze off when I heard desperate sobs and gasps of air. I frantically bolted through my door to see my mom in a ball on the couch with my sisters trying to comfort her. Upon seeing me, one of my sisters, Hannah, came up to me and whispered in my ear, “Grandpa died.” My world froze, and I couldn’t breathe. I stood there in denial thinking over and over, “I just saw him. That can’t be true.” I wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t. I needed to be there for my mom. I snapped back to reality and rushed to my mom, cradling her head in my lap. She was shaking, tears still streaming freely down her face. “No more of Grandpa’s silly Christmas jokes. No more of his horrible gingerbread cookies. No more presents from him under the tree.” We all laughed sadly and just sat there talking about every fact we could remember about him, like how he despised the color yellow, or how he always pretended he was a French chef whenever he made dinner. We talked for hours and finally fell asleep. “MOM! Wake up!” I shouted excitedly as I bounced up and down on her. “Look at all the presents!” The tree was surrounded by presents, big and small. It was amazing! After my sisters and I unwrapped all our presents, we all pointed toward a small package. My mom slowly unwrapped the little china angel ornament and smiled as she hung it on the tree. Violet McClaren 6th Grade Normal Park Ms. Brown Captain Tory Part one: Talking to Dad

“Who are you and what are you doing here?!?!?!?!” says an angry voice. “I’m Markus, your son, Markus Loter.”

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“I never had a son. What are you talking about?” “My mom is Jennifer Loter and you are Tory Loter my dad.” “Oh, so you’re Mark. {I remember now.}” “NO! I’M MARKUS!”

This vocabulary fight finally ended.

Markus is a regular teenager besides one tiny thing, he’s really short. He had come here from England a few years ago. It had taken Markus years to track down his father, Tory Loter. Tory had gone into the “War” and right after he had, Markus’ mom had left him.

“Listen kid, Mark, Markus, whatever your name is. I’m in the War so I have to back at some point, and when I do I can’t take you with me and I don’t know where I can take you. So, I’m pretty sure you are going to have to go back home.” “FINE, I’LL TAKE THE SCHOONER HOME THEN!” Part two: Meeting a new Friend When Markus was getting ready to get his ticket for the boat, somebody yelled at him, “HEY YOU!” “Who said that?” asked Markus. A girl around his age replied,” Are you riding alone?” “Yeah.” he replied in a strange voice. “Ride with me then.” “Ok.”

Right before he had left his father said a friend of his was going to pick him up and take him to his mother. The girl was about to introduce herself but, she stopped in mid sentence. "What's wrong?" Markus said curiously. "Do I know you?" she said. He thought about it for a second and realized......YES! Markus did know her; he knew he'd recognized the hair and the eyes. "YES!" they both said at the same time. She remembered him, just like he had remembered her. They used to live next door to each other when he lived here, and they both went to the same school. "You’re Markus." she said. "Yeah and you're Summer." Markus replied. He used to have a huge crush on her when they were little, but he got over it, but then again it might be coming back though.

As they walked to the boat ramp he showed his ticket to the ticket collector, but he wouldn't collect it, he said something about checking for tickets before they got to the final destination. Part three: The Boat

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They had already been waiting for the boat for one hour. But, it still wasn't there. Then a creepily dressed man with a lantern, "Swung his lantern three times and slowly the Schooner appeared." Summer was talking to the ticket collector about something, so she hadn't seen it. Markus thought the boat was magical.

"The boat's here, Summer." Markus told her. "Yay!" she replied excitedly, "Let's go!" she continued. As they entered the boat, Markus' ticket flew out of his pocket, but he never noticed. When they sat down he asked her why she was going to England from France. She said she was going to look for him, because Markus had told Summer, when they were 12 that he would need her to help him find his sister, Zoë.

Part four: Zoë

Summer and Zoë were best friends until Zoë turned 18 and left home. (They think she went to America to go to college.) Zoë always felt like a big sister to Summer. Then, she left without warning or without goodbyes.

"Oh." Markus said. Time passed and like they said, they checked for tickets. "Ticket?" the ticket collector said to Summer. She handed her ticket to him. "Ticket?" he repeated to Markus. He reached in his pocket, and it wasn't there. Uh-oh, he thought. "I don't have it." Markus said as if he was ashamed. "Then get off! Right now!" The ticket man said. As Markus was getting off, Summer said," Wait! If he has to go I'm going too." "Fine, stay." the ticket collector replied. Part five: Seeing mother and a Surprise

Once they got to France they went to Markus' mother's house. They walked in and found his mother talking to Zoë. "Oh, hi, Markus." his mother said, calmly. "I thought you had no idea where Zoë was." Markus said staring into his mother's eyes, not even daring to look at Zoë. "Well she started coming over everyday about a week ago.” ‘Whatever’ Markus thought to him self. Zoë started to say something then stopped. “Well who is this young lady? Is she a friend of yours?” Jennifer asked. Zoë opened her mouth to talk and said, “Well look who it is, it’s Summer.” Summer blushed as Zoë continued, “Wow, you have grown.” Zoë gave Summer a hug.

“The real reason I came, was to tell you both something really important.” Zoë said, continuing, pausing between sentences. “Our father… is in prison and might get a death sentence.” “But, I saw dad a week ago and he said he was going to War.” “Well apparently he got arrested because he is banned from the United States of America, so when he went to cross the border they checked him and found out he was banned one year ago.” The shock and sadness that was on his mother’s face, made Zoë feel bad for telling her.

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“I came to tell you so we could all go to the United States together.” “What about Summer?” Markus said, not wanting to leave her side. “Well how old are you, Summer?” Zoë asked. “Eighteen and a half. I turn 19 in two months.” She replied. “Perfect!” Zoë said, “We leave tomorrow. Summer do you need to tell your parents?” “No, I told them I was leaving. Plus I already have a passport.” Summer said. “Well then we leave tomorrow.” Zoë said. The day went past slowly. Finally it was the next day and they got on the plane. Part six: The States

When they got there they went straight to the prison Tory was in. When they got there they were talking to Tory and one of the guards came up and said, “They have decided, he will be put to death.” Markus, Markus’ mother, Zoë, and Summer all gasped. “It will happen tomorrow, so make today count while it can.” A different guard said more politely.

They did what the guard said, and made it last. They talked until visiting hours were over, and the guards made them get out. The next day at about 8:00 A.M., the guards took Tory to be executed. When the family knew it was over they decided to go ahead and go home. Part seven: BOOM!

Since there was a War going on they had to be careful when they flew, because the enemy could think it was a military plane. When they got on the plane to go back they had to sign a form, saying the plane could get bombed. Just like the form they had to sign before they could even get to the ‘States’.

They hadn’t been on the plane for long, and it had been pretty quiet, but suddenly there was a big noise and the plane had started falling. Then hit the ground and everyone in the plane died instantly. A BOMB HAD HIT THE PLANE.

Brianna Paige 6th Grade Hunter Middle Mrs. Holmes

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Prince Charles Franswsa My name is Charles Franswsa I was born into royalty with soft, black fur and white paws. I should not have to chase those silly little mice, Instead my human should be required to serve me fish on rice. My favorite time of the day Is sitting in the window watching the birds mock as they play. As I lay down to take my evening nap, The bed is to my liking, I prefer my human’s soft warm lap I really am thankful for my humans and they serve me All day long to me long, to me and only me, they shall forever belong.

Madelyn Rogers 6th Grade Hunter Middle Mrs Standridge

Unseen

The water clung to my skin. I felt the boat move under me as the waves pushed it up and down in the water. I thought about the question. “Yes,” I said in my head, then out loud. They were all ready, waiting in the raft. I had no idea what was going to happen or how scared I would be. I jumped on, excited. I reached my hand into the cold, dark water. “This will make my day even more awesome!” I thought. “Madeline, will you come, too?” I asked. I could hear the boat’s low rumble as it started up. Madeline said, “No.” “Why?” I wondered. Then, Mrs. Gale, Madeline’s mom, went over the hand signals, one for if we fell off. I froze. “Wha…fall off?” I said quietly. I still wanted to do it, ride the raft. But now I was a little nervous. The boat lurched and slowly started to move. I looked at Madeline’s sister, CC, then at Griffin. “Had they ever done this?” I wondered. The trees along the water started to blur. I felt the cold air blow around me as we went faster. All of a sudden, we flipped into the air! CC and I screamed. I looked at Griffin and saw that he was screaming too. I felt a thud then water as it splashed around us.

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We hit another wave and flew into the air. Now the trees were just a green line as we came down. Then, up ahead a bend was coming. As we went around the bend, I found the problem. Whenever we turned, CC and Griffin both got pushed towards me, almost pushing me off. Then another problem. Rob, Madeline’s step-dad who was driving the boat, wanted to swerve around. And I had no way of hanging on! I flipped into the air and landed in the middle of the lake. I watched as the boat shrank out of sight, and I was left alone in the dark water. I was trying to think of a way out of the water but could not think of anything. I then learned that I have a fear of things that I cannot see! And I could not see what was in the deep water. It seemed like hours that I was in the water all alone when it was only a minute. I stayed still, feeling like if I moved, something would grab my feet and pull me under. I stared, waiting to see the boat. I could see it coming closer to me. Seconds later, I was being pulled up onto the boat. Most people would not want to go on again after that, but I did the strange thing. I asked if I could go again! I couldn’t let falling off ruin my day. I jumped back on. This time I knew what to do to…NOT fall off. Bellah Vickers 6th Grade Normal Park Ms. Brown

   

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[  6th  Grade  Poetry  ]   The Walking Bridge In the season of leaves plummeting down to the earth I glide over the bridge. Hearing the thumps of the wheels On the strips of the wooden bridge. I feel the wind’s pressure On my burning face Bolting through the large crowd of walkers. In the frosty air I gingerly walk With a steamy hot chocolate in my pale, shivering hands. Ducking my rosemary cheeks into my Mother's comforting warmth. Staying attached toasts us back To our normal colors, So we step along the bridge. In the weather of blooming flowers I climb the blue, metal poles found on the bridge As if it were a tree or I am a monkey As I reach for the top, I glance at the silent, glimmering river, Flowing freely with no worries. I drain back down the pole like firefighters in a hurry down their escape poles. To freely sprint like a river anywhere I wanted to go. In the beaming sun I cautiously bike along the bridge. With a refreshing mint chocolate ice cream Inside a crunchy waffle cone. Stuffing my face with the icy goodness, But also eyeing the road So I don't crash. I pause to finish the delightful treat And then get back to racing with the wind to reach the end of the walkway. I will remember this place for as long as I live. Many shareable moments have been made here, Small but priceless moments, worthless to others, but meaningful to me.

Defne Bozbey 6th Grade Baylor School Ms. Cohen

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Julie Blue Julie Blue You knew just what to do When your feet touched the “golden ground” The angles rejoiced, Could you hear that sound? Oh Julie Blue for your days were few Oh Julie Blue You knew just what to do

Mary Claire Ellis 6th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Dina Couch

Metal Things on Wheels Dedicated to Judith Mogul

Her reaction was fear, Her screams of torment echoed and were heard from indoors, One by one the mighty fell. Tears sparkled in the sunlight, The sound of water was over run by motors. Metal things on wheels dominated. Soon they were gone, The trees were gone.

Ethan Farnam 6th Grade Chattanooga School for the Liberal Arts Melissa Striker

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November Raindrops There’s something about the way Rain splatters on the windshield. It’s different than normal rain. We drive down the road in silence, Thinking our own thoughts. What are you thinking? Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Are you thinking of the rain, Pitter-pattering on the glass before us? Or are you thinking of the lights In the parking lot ahead? Oh, dear Dad, just what are you thinking? It’s possible you’re thinking of the many trees, And how beautiful their colors are. I may never know what was occupying your mind On that cold, dark, winter night, But I now know one thing for sure. It was not rain on the windshield, But the tiny fingers of snowflakes in the moonlight.

Abby Fridell 6th Grade Chattanooga High School Center for Creative Arts Sandra Howard

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The Wolves Moon Luna, our mother, We raise our voices to her; The Full Moon smiles. Running beneath her, Not once do we fear with her guiding help. Luminous delight, Never fails to bring sweet change from twilight to night. Her glee at making Us, eternal servants, hunt; She sees everything. But we can't stop, Time from passing, it’s just life. Light hesitant- But only at first. Before we know it, Sun has taken back rule. His rule in the sky, Just as Luna’s, never lasting, a promise. A comment to All return, as night falls; Eager, we wait. For her brilliance, To light the way of our lives. Forever in a running cycle. Forever in eternality, we will never fail our precious Luna.

Bethany Jenkins, Grade 6 Rhea Middle School, Carol Ballard

The Moon Monument it was here before man arrived Opulent it looks like a jewel in the night sky Obverse it reflects its opponent, the sun Nocturnal it brightens the night sky

Zoe Lawless, 6th grade Hunter Middle Mrs. Holmes

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Bay Window On the disarrayed shelf of trinkets forgotten lays a glass globe constraining purple flickering electric arcs A Newtons cradle ticking away Reminders of times past A wooden Czech chess board routinely played aging Awana Pinewood Derby Cars longing in vain for the track A fractured Spanish slingshot long expired Tomes and articles unread Science magazines dry and torn with ages of misuse Jules Verne's novels with crisp pages not viewed before A wicker basket holds the volumes still Patient for their turn Displaying the diverse ornaments A bay window contains them all The time for their use is lost though Buried in the bibelots' cluttered depths

Thomas Nimon 6th Grade Baylor School Mrs. Cohen

The Whistling and Wild Nature Night as to day as the sun walks away, The trees and grass danced to the howling winds, The clouds shared ideas with the sun, As the winds blew and blew. When the sun blew out like a candle, The trees cried like a baby, And the grass was sad as a lost kid. The day was gone and the singing was over, It was quiet like a Sunday night. The moon was out shining like a diamond, And the stars were as bright as a light on Halloween night. The moon looked over the earth, While the people slept away and away.

Jemichael Shahid 6th Grade Dalewood Middle School Stephanie Brewer

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Miles to Pluto I yelled 1,000 years ago, No one heard a thing. I had an idea and my mind went “Bing.” I said, “I should get closer; maybe they’ll hear me there”. I made a mistake and stepped on a trap. Someone came and said, “Listen here, my friend, Earth is only a mile away, So come on take my hand and let’s begin to float.”

Janiya Welch 6th Grade Dalewood Middle School Stephanie Brewer

   

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[  7th  Grade  Prose  ]   World War 3

As I awaken to a loud boom, I look around to see that my family is still alive. Then I hear the TV saying that an entire country has just been destroyed. Once again a nuclear bomb has just obliterated another country. Ever since the government has been overthrown, the U.S.A. has been targeted by about every country. Even the countries that were our allies are now attacking us. It all started with a little disagreement and soon the whole world broke out in war, World War 3. Every day there are bombings and attacks. Every week secret police break into homes and force every boy twelve or older into the military. If the boy says no, he will be killed. That’s why we hide in this cellar, to keep our family safe and together. The cellar is hidden in a dark back alley. It is an old, dark, and gloomy cellar. It has one tiny room that we all live in. we rarely go outside the cellar but when we do it is only to get food and water. We try to store up as much as we can, but these things are scarce and hard to find. Also, if we are found outside, we will be taken captive by another country. It is 2025, and things are different than they used to be. When I was a kid, we could go play on the playground or go play in the park without having to worry about being taken captive. Now we cannot even go to school because one day, three years ago, an army from Afghanistan came in and took almost everyone captive. My sister and I made it out okay, though. All I want is for my sister Isabelle to able to go to school and play with friends. But now we can trust no one. Every night I have nightmares about our family being split apart or one of us dying. After I wake up, I can never go back to sleep. So I get up to go find food and water. I have to leave the cellar quietly because my mother would never let me leave the cellar by myself. I find a little water and food about five miles away from the cellar. As I walk back, I see a big group of secret police. I immediately drop everything and run as fast as I can back to the cellar. When I get there, I am too late. My father has been taken. I find my mother and little sister sobbing in a dark corner of the cellar. Soon they cry themselves to sleep, but I cannot sleep. All I can think about is finding my father. I know what I have to do. I have to join the military. I wake up early and leave a note saying where I am going. Then I leave for the military base. I finally get to the base and sign up. The man asks for my name and other important information. After 12 weeks of being in the army, I am injured by an explosion that takes the lives of many of my fellow soldiers. Luckily, I escape with only minor injuries. I am taken to a nearby military hospital tent. It is there that I find my father in one of the military hospital tents. He is in very bad condition, but he is alive! After four weeks, he is well enough to stand and barely walk. That night I sneak into his tent, and my father sees me for the first time since he was taken from our home. He is surprised and excited to see me, but as the same time, angry with me for risking my life to save him. I know we don’t have much time before someone discovers us. We try to get as far away from the military base as we can before sunrise. We climb over rough, jagged mountains. We cross over rivers and streams to get rid of our tracks and lose our scent because I know they will be hot on our trail. We walk through old towns and cities that that have been destroyed. The nights are cold and

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restless. Sometimes I worry that when we get back they might be gone, but we have to keep going. Just when we can’t take one more step of this endless journey, we make it back to our hometown. I have never been so glad to see this town in my life. It takes us three days, but we finally make it back to our home. When we walk into the cellar and get to see our family again for the first time in four months, it is wonderful. For a moment I forget that we are in a war, I forget where we are. I forget about everything that is wrong in the world. All I can think about is being here with my family all together and safe. This is the best moment in my life and I never forget this moment for as long as I live.

Madeline Benson 7th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Scheloe Woodson

The Lucky Ones September 14, 3042 I was a lucky one. I was someone who could have a new life. Many others couldn't have a new life. That's why I was called Hope. That wasn't my real name of course. My real name was Forest. My parents called me that because I liked trees. It's too bad there is only one place with trees left. It's not on Earth. January 1, 3030 What a way to kick off the New Year. It happened so fast. It looked just like a jet flying across the sky. I wasn't a jet though. It was a plutonium missile. It was just a matter of time. After Russia and China captured Japan and major oil producers, the U.S. and most of Europe declared war, and Russia thought it would be a good idea to nuke Alaska. That's when it started. Every country that was able just started firing. I'm just glad Norway scientists came up with an advanced missile defense system. It lasted just enough time to flee. There was only one place that wasn't hit, and only twenty of us would go. We were heading to Papua New Guinea. January 15 There were more than 8 billion casualties in a matter of a month. The last survivors were left to fend for themselves until radiation got to them except for twenty people. One of the twenty of us was a scientist named Xavier, and he estimated the atmosphere would collapse in about five days. He also told us about the evacuation rocket hidden by the Norwegians. We were heading to Mars.

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January 18 As soon as the rocket left what little atmosphere was left, we could finally relax a bit. I decided to look out the window. Earth wasn't blue and green with white clouds. It was covered with gray smoke and the oceans weren't water, they were a dark black with who knows how many bodies. I wonder if Mars has water. March 23, 3032 We finally reached Mars but one of the two rockets was struck by asteroids. Only ten of us were left. I was a lucky one. As we touched down our captain told us our goals. We need to set up shelter, start the atmospheric fan, and set up food and water. I'm glad I don't have the atmospheric fan duty, because I don't even understand what atmosphere Mars has. They put me into the food duty where I would set up solar panels which produced a light that would shine on the apple trees. I planted the apple trees. Probably the last trees left since the atmosphere on Earth collapsed. I just hope there are other planets with trees. April 2 Xavier told us bad news. Since the Earth has no atmosphere, radiation seeped out and is heading for the sun. He doesn't know what happens next. He just knows that hot temperatures and radiation doesn't go well together. Maybe we will get lucky, or has our luck ran out? April 10 It wasn't too bad. I wish I could say that. The sun exploded, well part of it, and it is creating a black hole. Xavier has no idea why, but he thinks it's a chemical reaction. He also says we have about 4 more years or head to a new planet. August 17 Turns out our luck hasn't ran out. The 2067 Voyager ship that launched from the U.S. was lost as it passed Mars. Turns out it landed about 250 miles from our landing site. There is no sign of the crew. That doesn't matter because we have a ship to escape. We are heading to sector 69103 because no other explored planets had habitable environments. I just hope there are trees.

Jeremy Brien 7th Grade Baylor School Ms. Conway

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Gone

Hoot owls are still awake when mother wakes me up. It was time to farm. My father, my 14-year-old brother, John along with my twin brother, Peter left home nearly 3 long months ago to go fight for our liberties. I had watched with tears in my eyes as they walked down the old path, out of sight. They would probably never return home. The thought made me tremble with sadness.

The cold dew brushes against my bare feet as my mother and I slowly pace to the

fields. We are tobacco farmers, and sell our tobacco. We live a mile from Yorktown, Virginia. Father said tobacco is bad for you, but he could make money off of it, so we grow it. Half of the process has already been done. Now we were just weeding. I hate to weed. It is exhausting. How did my brothers manage? I just want them to be home. To laugh, to eat, to love together as a family. We are not much of a family anymore. We weed ‘till the sun is high in the sky and it is time to make dinner. We have the last of the cornmeal, and mother tries to persuade me to go to town, and finally I give in. The cornmeal is not that tasty, but it is food. I have heard stories of people having to roast their shoes and eat them for food in winter at Valley Forge.

Mother is going hunting after supper. She is hoping to shoot a deer to have juicy

delicious deer roast. I have not had meat in forever. Mother comes back with a small male deer. It is gorgeous. I stand there my mouth watering, staring at the beautiful beast.

“Aren’t you proud of me, Lydia?” she exclaims in a voice full of pride. My mother had shot and carried back a small and thin deer. Mother never wanted

to touch a gun or work in the tobacco fields. She thought it was unladylike. Yet now she is a very good shot, and she never complains about weeding. I never knew about it. In the morning, we do more weeding, and then have a deer roast for dinner, and I go to town. As usual, all of the loud old ladies are sitting on a bench gossiping. Today, a large lady with a booming voice says something about Mr. Williams. Not making out all of the words, I could hear something like, “Mr. Williams hurt in hospital lots, of men- scared with memories.” That is it. I race into the shop, grab some corn, give the clerk money, and run all the way home. Father is hurt-I had no idea. Why hadn’t mother told me? How long has he been hurt?

When I get inside, I throw the corn on the table, tears running down my cheeks, exclaiming to mother, “How could you not have told me?” “Tell you what?” mother calmly replies. “ That father has been hurt,” I manage to get out before bursting into sobs. “Why, I didn’t know that” mother denies. She sat me down on a chair and makes me tea. By the time she returns, I have stopped crying and my eyes are puffy and red. Mother then tells me that he will be fine and he is in good care. Mother volunteers to make supper, and I sit on the chair embroidering a beautiful picture with delicate flowers and a radiant blue sky on a sunny day. This was the opposite of my feelings. The embroidering of my life and feelings would be a dreary gray sky, the clouds covering the sun. All of the flowers drooping with no purpose just like me.

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At supper, there is a startling knock at the door that seems to shake the house.

Mother slowly gets up and walks to the door. When she opens it, a man around 15 stands at the door and shoots out his hand to give a letter to mother. He then quickly turns back to his horse and rides away. Mother stands speechless as she opens the letter. “ Oh my.” She cries dropping the letter on the floor. Tears well up in her eyes as well as mine. To see mother cry was an unwanted experience. “ Mother!” I run to give her a hug. “ Read the letter,” she sobs. I pick up the letter and skim through. Dear Mrs. Williams, I am sorry to inform you that your son, Peter has been killed in the war. He had a stomach wound, and the doctors said it was too severe to be cured. That was all I read. All that needed to be read. Nothing could have hurt me more. I would never see his smile or hear his laugh again. He would never come back down the old path he had gone away on. He was gone, forever. I don’t know when my life will ever be like the embroidery that I was stitching. Overall, this piece of my life has been like pieces of a puzzle. They fit in together somehow, but it takes time. This piece of my life was not as thrilling as other pieces, but I am sure that I am a stronger person. Finally, I hope that even though Peter didn’t make it safely home, father and John will.

Corley Compton 7th Grade Girls Preparatory School Jenny Bullard

A Time to Remember

As I fell, nothing mattered anymore. The leaves fell with the howling wind as I fell with the gravitational pull that dragged my body and my soul down. I plummeted down with such a force; it didn't feel like falling anymore. The world was on halt like a paused movie, waiting in stillness for what felt like centuries, with the remote control long, long lost. I became paralyzed. Not even the pupils of my eyes could twitch. Frozen. Every wisp of movement was solidified with me. I was completely ensconced in the stillness. The ground, far below, was an unclear mass of confusion. The faint far away sound of voices softly ringed in my ears. Yet, there I was held, suspended above the chaos. Memories flashed in the back of my head, and just as quickly left. Her laugh, her soft face, her gentle voice, our times together were but a fait shadow lurking through the depths of my entangled memory. The past, present, future, and my imagination's creations started to blur and mix together in my head. I wistfully yearned for the truth, the clearness that was locked down under me, so far, far away. I could not reach it. I could not grasp it. I could not wrap my fingers around it and hold it. The invisible strings that held me like a puppet above the world, above what I wanted were ever so restricting. With all my mind's power, I tried to break myself free from this trance I was

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in. I commanded any muscle in my body to move, but not one fired. The puppet master above me would not budge. I had no power over myself, whatsoever. Oh, how I wished to transcend above the force controlling me. But I was yet a prisoner, enslaved to the puppet strings sewed deep into my body. Minutes, days, hours, years of loneliness and boredom passed, and there I was yet held above the brightness and power of below. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I slowly, slowly began to pick up spare words, lonely words, around me, " Operation," "Okay?” I started to register a sharp pain in my head. I tried to scream, but my puppet master held my jaw fixed in place. Frustration had started to seep into my thoughts, but I could do nothing. Suddenly, out of the thin air, a hand grabbed my arm. My heart started beating, faster. My eyes were forced open. I was blinded by the brightness in the room. Fear raced through me. A face with eyes as blue as an ocean, and wavy chestnut colored hair came into sight. Her lips were redder than cherries, and her face pail as flour. Something about her seemed peculiar, almost familiar. The thought vanished instantly.

"Barbara!" she effervescently smiled, “How are you feeling? I have been so

worried. Was the operation okay? Was it painful? Are you comfortable?" I tried to turn my head over to see whom she was talking to, but it did not budge. The beautiful woman looked keenly into my eyes, but I had no idea whom she was or where she might have come from. I stared back in confusion.

"Oh, mother. Don't start playing games with me. It's okay if you don't feel good. I understand that you must be tired," she spoke softly. I had a feeling she might have been talking to me.

"Um, mam, you must have me confused with someone else," I again tried to utter. Nothing but a mere grunt escaped my sealed lips.

She walked even closer, kissed my forehead, then turned around and left. I think I

might have heard her whimper quietly, but in my confusion, I couldn't be sure. The next day the woman came by again. She had a smile on her face. She talked to me. Her voice calmed my nerves. I told my mouth to smile, but never knew if it did. She told stories of her childhood. She asked if I remembered any of it. I tried to tell her that she was a complete stranger, and that I knew absolutely nothing about her life; much less remember any of it, but the only thing I could force my tongue to say was, "No."

Upon hearing this, she would look down and blink a few times. Her eyes would

glisten. She would turn away, and after a few seconds, she would turn back. She would say that I had to remember. She would say that I was her mother, and she my daughter. She reminded me again and again that her name was Lily, almost pleading me to believe it, to remember it. I couldn't see why she thought this, or what she saw in me. She would tell me that I was operated, but it went wrong, and that I was paralyzed. She told of when I took care of her and loved her. I could do nothing but listen. Suddenly, a flashback of her came back to me. I saw my hands tickling her little body, a giant grin on her face, her laugh filling the room. Deep, deep within me, one of my puppet strings was cut free. My own face in present time lit up with a smile of my own. Lily had seen this, and she smiled too.

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"Remember!" I whispered. Then, just as instantly as the memory had flooded in, it vanished. My smile

faded. Not a shred of the memory was left. I had forgotten why I had smiled. The days passed Lily always appeared at my doorway. I did not remember the times I laughed with her, or cried with her. Some days I did not remember her at all, yet she kept me company. Every moment I was with her, my life was enlightened. From her I learned to cherish every moment of life when it was happening, for I might not ever re-live it or remember it again.

Julia Garcia 7th Grade Girls Preparatory School Jenny Bullard

Untitled

Jimmy stared at out the window, looking at the snow. It was actually the only thing to look at. It had been snowing for 8 days and the snow was almost to the top of the house. His mom was freaking out and had wished she hit the store before the snow got as bad as it is.

He turned on the TV and saw Tom Cruise on a talk show ranting about Scientology which is a religion where aliens created the earth. He changed the channel and it was the history channel.

"Good, I hope there talking about WW2." “Scientists have found the secret to the creation of humanity." The announcer

said. Jimmy sat up in his chair. He was excited to see what they would say. "Aliens" the announcer said. Jimmy turned off the TV. Then he heard a rumble. He looked out the window and

as the snow was melting rapidly. He caught a glimpse of a laser melting the snow. He ran outside and saw what looked like a UFO. A beam hit him and he was floating up into the UFO.

Then out of nowhere Bill O'Reilly ran and yelled. "Aliens... You can't explain that!" Then the Alien ship disappeared. Jimmy fell into what was left of the snow.

"How did you do that!" Jimmy said in excitement. "I have the "You can't explain that" power.” he said.

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Then more UFOs came. Jimmy jumped in the car and watched as Bill O'Reilly

began to destroy more alien ships. They stopped at a gas station. UFOs came and attacked the gas station. Tom Cruise jumped out and ran up to them.

"Don't worry I'll save you.” He runs up to the aliens and pulls out a pen and paper. "Can I have your autograph?" The alien grabbed the pen and paper and signed it. Tom Cruise looked like a

teenage girl getting an autograph from Justin Bieber. "Can is see Xenu?" he asked. The Alien waved to a UFO and in pulled him and Tom Cruise inside. "Xenu must be there leader." Jimmy said. Then a flash of light burst in front of Jimmy. He fell asleep. He woke up and saw

Morgan Freeman standing over him.

"Where am I?" Jimmy asked. He saw a sign that Morgan Freeman was holding. It read ‘I tried to talk to you but

you fell asleep, my voice was too amazing for you.’ Jimmy got in the car with Morgan Freeman and they drove to a nearby airport.

They got it a plane and they flew to the UFO. They jumped from the plane and parachuted on the UFO. They crawled inside and found Tom Cruise getting Xenu's autograph. Xenu spotted Jimmy and Morgan Freeman and shot a laser out of him. Everything went black and he woke up in a bed.

Everything was black and white and he could hear music playing. It sounded like the tune from the Andy Griffith show. He got up and then words popped in front of his face that said "The Jimmy Griffith Show!" An announcer spoke the words as the popped in front of Jimmy.

Then he heard someone say "Honey, breakfast is ready!" He came down and saw a man and a woman eating at the table. "Hey there son have some steak." "But I thought this was breakfast."

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"It's the only thing to eat." Jimmy looked out the window he saw buildings cars people pets. But there was

something different. The buildings were shaped like steaks, the people wore clothes like steak, the cars looked like steak, and the pets were steak! He remembered something and he pulled a piece of bacon out of his pocket.

The world faded and he was sucked into a black hole and he woke up with Morgan Freeman by his side.

Xenu was in front of them and he yelled "They broke free of the Simulated Tectonic Awesome People Life Energy Resource."

"So the STAPLER." Jimmy said. "No, it's the Simulated Tectonic Awesome People Life Energy Resource." "But that shorted is STAPLER." Then Morgan Freeman jumped and spoke. Jimmy fell asleep and Xenu fled earth

for Morgan Freeman's voice was too wonderful for him. Xenu was entranced by his voice and destroyed all of the UFOs and flew back to his planet and sat in a corner and thought about rainbows.

When Jimmy woke up he was back at his house. He turned on the TV and the reporter said,

"The aliens have left earth and while they were here Nicholas Cage stole the

Declaration of Independence.” Jimmy chuckled. "The police are after him and they have no leads on where he is, if you find him

please report." He heard a knock at his door he opened it and it was Nicholas Cage. "Can I use your bathroom?" he asked. "Sure" Jimmy said. He looked the window and the snow was gone... and his mom got groceries. Jimmy got excited and ate 40 bags of Cheetos because he can that's why.

Riley Grove 7th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Scheloe Woodson

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Untitled

Vatican lay by himself quietly upon the floor of the cave. It had been designed specifically for the holding of dragons as they awaited death, designed to match the terrace-people’s idea of his kind. The floor was laid with elfstone rather than the pumice stone of his house. Elfstone was black, flossy, and smooth; this gave a feel of elegance. Bones of fools were scattered about the cave, fools who wished to fight the dragon, and fools who withed to die. The small opening in the roof of the café was carved to look like the teeth of a dragon, and the light that shone through shone like the light of fire.

The collar around Vatican’s neck sat snuggly, and the chain that it was connected to joined the wall slightly to the left of the huge gold doors they dragged him through. He did not see the necessity of the chain; he could sense the presence of more than a hundred minds behind the door, armed with Dragon Sleep so no escape was to come of that. The only other exit was the roof of the cave, but it was too small for Vatican to consider.

Jawn raced up the mountain beside the cave. It seemed to be the tallest one, and from there he would easily be able to spot Vatican. It is a difficult task to hide a dragon. Though it would be a long climb, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long or he would be too late.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” Selda shouted from the forest.

“I won’t stand for the death of an innocent dragon,” he yelled back.

“He’s not innocent, he’s a monster! Jawn, please.” Jawn ignored the rest of her lecturing. He hadn’t time; he had to save Vatican. “I’m sorry Selda,” he thought, “I really am, but I must do this.” He focused completely on his climb. Frustrated, Selda searched for a very tall tree. She, of course, knew where the dragon was, so she climbed a pine between the mountain on which Jawn climbed, and the mountain that held the dragon. Then she waited. “I don’t see him,” Jawn thought. “How can that be?” He panicked. “How can someone as large just disappear?” He looked around frantically, yet the dragon remained hidden from him. As Jawn stood in disbelief, a rumbling sound came from the mountain across from him. Vatican’s sleek head and neck rose from the opening in the mountain. “He’s going to make it,” Jawn thought. “Hopefully, he is going to make it.” Vatican’s entire body emerged from the mountain, but then he stopped; he struggled, straining to break the chain. The valley could hear it beginning to snap. Just before it could, Vatican lost consciousness. The body of a dragon hung by the mountain, framed by the sunset; the valley was silent.

Tyler Johnson, 7th grade Normal Park, Sue Evans

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Discovering Atlantis It was a dark and cold night on the Atlantic Ocean. The great Titanic was moving fast through the freezing waters. The guests on board were cold. It was so cold that fish were frozen in ice blocks. Larry Woodard and Bob Jennings were two men that were on board at this time. They didn't like the feeling of sailing through icy waters. As the same for everyone else. It just didn't feel right. At 11:40 pm on April 14, 1912, the Titanic struck an ice berg. The massive cruise liner started to sink. People were going crazy and the radio wasn't working. Larry and Bob quickly got into a spare life boat. They were lowered in the water safely and clear of trouble. It took almost three hours for the ship to sink. Bob and Larry watched it slowly disappear in the icy waters. The night was black and you couldn't see very far. Every once in a while you would here voices of people talking from other life boats, but that was about it. It was a very scary time for everyone, not knowing what was going to happen. Everybody had to get in a circle and come real close for warmth. It was 5 degrees in Atlantic Ocean during April. The radio wasn't working on the ship so nobody knew it had sunk. Help wouldn't be there for days, possibly up to a week. There's no way they were going to be able to survive that long. It just wasn't possible. One night Bob spotted a dim light under the water. It was about 30 feet away from where they were. They paddled over to it and it got brighter. Once they were almost directly above it, it got brighter and it looked there were multiple lights under the boat. Nobody was sure if it was real or if they were just seeing things. They hadn't had food in about two days, so they were a little loopy. The spot they were in was very unusual. The water around them was warm. There was no ice, just warm water. They were still very intrigued with the lights under them. They all agreed to dive in and swim down to check it out. As they were swimming, they swam into a glass wall. Inside the glass wall, they saw buildings and big city lights. About 50 feet away from them it looked like there was an entrance. They swam over to the door and went through the glass. When they got in, they could breath. The glass wall surrounded the city and there was oxygen inside it! Bob recognized the city from a description given by a man that made up the story about the city of Atlantis. It had a glass wall surrounding it and the city had a big tall building in the center of it that was 5 different colors! They also had silver roads. It had to be Atlantis, it just had to be! They all stood in astonishment staring at the massive underwater city. They were welcomed by the mayor of the city. Then escorted in a limousine to the nicest restaurant in the city. They were so excited to finally get something to eat. It's been three days since they've had a real meal. Larry noticed that the mayor looked like Babe Ruth. It was Babe Ruth! After the meal, they noticed that all the citizens in the city were celebrities that have died. They were in total shock of what they've discovered. They saw people that have been dead for hundreds of years, and people that have been dead for not even 10 years. It was truly amazing! Nobody else knew about Atlantis except the people on Bob and Larry's life boat. If they told everyone about it, they would

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be famous! If they didn't tell anybody about it, then they could go down there whenever they wanted. They all voted to tell everyone! They swam back up to the top of the water, but didn't find their boat. Luckily about ten minutes after they came back up, a shrimp boat came by and picked them up. The shrimp boat had two captains, Forest Gump and Lieutenant Dan. They took the people back to America and got there in about 3 days. They arrived in New York. When they got there, they went and told the mayor about their discovery and it was announced on national news that Atlantis has been found! They were heroes! The government gave them each one million dollars for there finding. Bob and Larry returned to their home in Minnesota and lived happily ever after.

Sawyer Junkins 7th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Scheloe Woodson

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The Last Hope

I shoved Anna into the rapids of the river. I looked down, she was nowhere in sight. I looked down the river and saw Anna, struggling to hold onto the side of a boat. Her short black hair was soaked and she looked angry. I ran down to the boat and jumped into the water next to it, splashing water all over Anna.

"Whoops." I said, sounding bored. She glared at me, then, remembering that I was helping her escape and her only friend, she let it go.

I climbed into the boat and helped Anna in. I heard an alarm. Great, here comes the police. One more thing to worry about. I decided that drifting to the falls would be better than trying to row upstream. I let us drift to the falls, hoping I had made the right choice.

As I saw the cars approaching, I decided that it was time to get off the small boat. The boat tilted as we jumped off, making it hard to keep our footing. I ran as hard as I could with Anna behind me. She slowed down, that's where things took a turn for the worse.

I left her in the dust, thinking that she was right behind me. I only noticed that she wasn't with me after I had climbed a tree. I heard her scream from a ways away. I started to choke on my breath. I did the one thing I had promised never to do. I had left her behind.

As I raced toward her screams, I saw the police car's lights. I saw two dark figures, one of them was struggling. I raced to the car, hoping that they wouldn't start driving.

They pushed Anna into the car. I bolted for it and I reached it right after it took off. I could see Anna pounding on the glass and screaming my name, tears in her eyes.

There was only one thing to do now. Catch up. As I ran down the street, I saw the lights of a small town. At least I knew where

she was. But how had the police gotten from The Factory so fast? A thought dawned on me. I stopped running and sat down on the edge of the road, catching my breath. They weren't taking Anna to jail. They were taking her back to the Factory.

Every day I would walk to the sleeping quarters with my hands cut and my face bruised. Anna would walk to our room and have blood running down her face and blisters on her hands and feet, crying because she was so hurt. I had to get Anna back.

She would kill herself if she ever had to work there again, she told me that herself! As I ran upstream again, I noticed that the police cars were still there. I knew they

were still looking for me. Why not just let them find me? I mean, yes it would be hard to get out again, but it would save me a long walk. No, I thought. I need to find Anna, nothing else. Just get there.

It took me another hour to sprint upstream. In that time, loads of bad things can happen to Anna. I saw the factory and thought I was going to be sick. I decided I would have to break into some room. I raced to the side of the building and jumped. I grabbed my hand onto a windowsill. I pulled myself up so I could see in. My feet balanced on the windowsill, I looked in. I made sure no one was there before I broke the glass. I stood up inside and brushed myself off. Anna had to be somewhere. Then, as I was walking out of the room, I saw her.

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Her hair was tangled and her brow was wet. She was making something, but couldn't see what. Whatever it was, it was hurting her. I walked out to her and started to pretend doing what she was doing.

"Tonight, you bring everyone to this room. These people deserve to be free." I whispered.

Anna nodded silently then went back to work, not even turning to see who I was. That night, I met about three hundred kids from ages six to fifteen in the room. I

stood up in front of all of them. I looked at their bruised faces from beatings, fear hidden in their eyes. I decided that this was the day where everything changed for them.

"Do we want to be treated like trash?" I asked. "Something used and then thrown

away? This is the last chance you will get to this for a long, long time. This is the last hope for you."

They all looked at me, not knowing what to say. "Tonight, is the night, where you will be free. Now who's with me?!" I got a loud cheering noise. I told them to go to the front door of the Factory. I

followed behind to make sure everyone got out. The door was heavily locked, I told everyone to start banging as hard as they could.

The door creaked and started to fall. I heard loud sirens but I told everyone to go. We all raced out and ran down the river. We got to a shallow part and then raced across. I waited to see if everyone had made it. Anna stayed behind with me. Once I couldn't see any more kids, me and Anna raced to catch up with the others.

"Thanks for coming back for me." She said. I looked at her and smiled. I knew this wasn't the end though. They would get

more kids, and I would always go back for them. That was only the beginning.

Ada Ludwick 7th Grade Baylor School Ms. Conway

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The Story

The two young men were seated across from the girl. They sat on the benches, the two men on one, the girl on the other.

It was six o'clock on a Saturday morning, an ungodly hour to be strolling. It was unless you’re a nine-year-old and have a sense of nativity that Nephelium wished they could produce.

Her whereabouts were, of course, unknown by her guardians, but she had been doing this for long enough to know when to go and how long to stay. The men across from the little girl, only asphalt in between their three bodies, were simply always in the park, as the girl perceived long ago.

Maybe they were brothers, or friends, or it was just plainly convenient for them to be always together. The little girl walked to the park every Saturday morning to meet someone new, and with her black moleskin notebook in hand, she would record their story. For you see, the girl knew, just knew, everyone had a story to tell her. She made it her duty as a citizen to find some of the people’s stories. Some men and women scoffed when she came their way in her polka-dotted dress and asked them for their story. Some laughed heartily. Some cried. Some smiled. Some just started their story, eager to provide. She wondered what these men would do. The girl took a deep breath and bluntly spoke first to the men. “Hello, sirs. Please tell me your story.” “Can it be made-up?” the burlier of the two asked. “If you would like it to be,” the little girl said, opening her black notebook. “But first, tell me your names.” “I’m Ben and that’s John. I wouldn’t go asking for him to talk out his story; he’s mute,” the one that spoke before admonished. “Okay,” the girl said, trying to sound as in charge as her mother always did, “please, begin whenever you’re ready.” John then took out a ragged, blue notebook and a disposable pen from his backpack. “It seems like John has somethin’ to say.” Ben laughed and patted the smaller man on the shoulder.

John wrote and wrote leaving the girl on edge, ready to hear what he had to say. The girl always loved a good story, and she was sure he would have one.

After countless moments of waiting, John gave Ben his worn, open notebook. The girl smiled, showing all her teeth at their exchange.

“I think we may be ready,” Ben laughed as he talked, a humor filled laugh. John smiled and gestured toward the notebook in Ben’s hands. “Ah, yes. The story,” Ben said, staring at the page where John had scribbled his

words. He began to read from the notebook. “Once upon a time, there was a bored prince. He was so very bored.

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“Quite a fine king he will become, the men and women in the village would say. And he would be a fine king someday. “The prince didn’t want to be a king, though. He wanted to be a spirit like in his

stories. He didn’t want the responsibility. He didn’t want the worrying. He wanted and adventure that was not provided to him because of his monarchy.

“So he created some.” The girl was so transfixed with the story she forgot to record it and scrambled to

do so. “The prince created worlds of which people would roam free with hexes and

magic with his words. He wrote them and read the worlds till his eyes hurt. “Then after many years with his man-made adventures he almost didn’t want a

real one. “Almost. “That was till the farm girl waltzed into his life. She waltzed because that’s what

she did, no explanation beyond that. “She brought grand adventures to him, and he loved it. He loved her. “She made the prince realize that he should not have to do things he didn’t want

to do. So the prince talked to the king, telling him his premise. The prince tried to remind him that the king had many sons who would be better suited to be the king someday.

“The prince was banished from the kingdom, so he lived with and married the farm girl.

“And they almost lived happily ever after.” The girl noticed her cheeks were stained with tears for the young man. She could

hear John’s emotions through his words. “The prince is me,” Ben finished, looking toward John. He placed the blue

notebook back in John’s lap. The girl used the sleeve of her black nylon dress to wipe the water from her

opaque, blue eyes. After moments of silence besides the blue birds chirping in the trees, the little girl

was the first to speak once again. “Is that all?” John bobbed his head up and down. It was all.

Calla Merritt 7th grade Normal Park Sue Evans

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The Forgotten

Are things truly forgotten, or do we simply push thoughts back into our mind? There was a group of children. They didn’t believe in being forgotten. They thought that people still remembered them, but the people were just too scared to admit it. That was the theory of one girl. She built on it and planted it in other children’s minds. She formed a group where the core principle was “Never be forgotten.” Yet, deep in her mind, she knew her situation was hopeless. She knew that if a human is forgotten, then it will take willpower that is stronger than the strongest hurricane to uncover the memory. That is why she named her group The Forgotten. She thought that the name would represent their never ending struggle to be remembered. I first thought about running away from St. Helen’s Orphanage when I saw Edith, the most feared bully in the whole institute, beat up another girl until she was howling louder than my dog when his leg got crushed by an oncoming car. I had been at St. Helen’s since I was three years old. It has been the only home that I have ever known. Mary, our dormitory supervisor, told me that my parents had been murdered when I was two. My aunt had taken me in, but soon decided that she didn’t want to deal with a child. Mary told me that the murderers were never caught. Sometimes, I feel like I can remember my parents, a memory of a laugh here, or a flash of a beautiful white smile there. I told this to Mary and she laughed, saying that there was no way I could remember something from twelve years ago. I replied that I refused to believe in forgetting things. She stopped laughing and her eyes instantly turned glassy. She told me to get on to dinner and to stop talking about forgotten parents, as it is a sensitive topic at orphanages. Before I can open my mouth to retort, she put a hand and pointed a finger towards the dining hall. I trudged on and when Edith came around the corner, I ducked behind a corner. I sighed and entered the dining a few minutes after Edith. My thoughts on running away became real when Mary died due to a heart disease. I plant the thought in my mind that no one else in the world loves me and raided the kitchen. I pack everything in a duffel bag that Edith never really used anyway. After everything is packed up, I shove the bag underneath my bed and climb into bed. When the sun goes down, I wait a few more hours and then quietly get out of bed. I pull a jacket on and go out into the world. After walking around the city for a while I find an abandoned warehouse that looks fairly warm. I settle down and fall asleep instantly. I wake up to find a pair of deep blue eyes staring back at me. I jump and shuffle back, pulling the bag with me. The girl that belongs to the eyes chuckles and reaches out a hand to help me up. “What’s your name?” she asks. I shake my head to clear the fog in my mind and look around. There are about thirty children, all sitting on mats and all staring at me. “What is this place?” I ask in disbelief. The girl looks over at me and smiles a beautiful white smile. “This is the home of the forgotten children. They are cast out by parents and mean uncles. Eventually, they turn up here.” She gestures with her hand to indicate “here.” I can’t help thinking that I am a forgotten child now. “So, what’s your name?” she repeats. “My name is Rosetta, or Rose for short.” I reply. “Hello Rose, my name is Trinity. You know, roses are my favorite flower. They represent beauty and freedom. My sister loved daffodils though. She was killed by a

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bunch of gang members. One of them used to be my best friend in middle school.” Her eyes turn distant, like she is traveling back in time. “Anyway, we are planning to make a statement about forgotten children. We are going to the mayor’s house in about three days to form a public revolution of sorts. Do you want to join us?” Her smile turns gentle and her eyes resemble the ocean I used to dream about. “Yes. I would like to come with you.” I say after a long pause. Three days later all thirty kids, plus me and Trinity head to the center of the city, where the mayor is. As soon as we enter the town square I can feel something very wrong in the atmosphere. I don’t say anything, but I stay alert. Trinity marches up to the mayor’s door. “We command you to emerge and listen to our statement!” she yells at the closed door. I see the guards coming around the building before she does. I want to yell at her to back down, but my throat is tight. I can’t make a sound. The guards grab her arms and she flails around until she sees another guard making his way towards her, with a gun. She lowers her head as if submitting to her fate. Just before the gunshot sounds, she meets my eyes and gives me a small, beautiful white smile. I go out and pick two different bundles of flowers. The new home of the forgotten children is by the sea, at my request. I walk down the hill to the beach. The eternal quality of the water against the horizon never fails to amaze me. I walk towards two pieces of stone that sit on the hill that almost touches the beach. I place a bundle of daffodils next to one and a bundle of roses next to the other. “You were never forgotten.” I whisper to the sun.

Saulye Nichols 7th Grade Heritage Middle School Billie Carlock

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Untitled The woman stepped out of the passenger seat of a small, black car into the pouring, cold rain. With the door of the car still open, she reached in and grabbed a yellow package and closed the door. The man in the driver seat nodded at the strange woman and drove away. The woman was wearing a long, black, fur coat with matching leather pumps. Unlike her dark, tan skin the woman had light, blonde, curly hair protected by a black umbrella. After the car disappeared into the dark night- she began to cross the street. She walked and walked for at least a mile until she reached a large brick building on the corner. The glass of the windows had been busted out and all the exits had been boarded up besides one, all the way on the backside of the warehouse was a fire exit. The woman climbed and then entered the building; the only thing that could be heard was bloodcurdling screams. Sophie awoke with a start. She recognized her bed, room and everything else but she knew it wasn't home. Her room was never clean she always had clothes strewn about the room and her shelves were always cluttered but, surprisingly- it was well organized, clean and in order. She looked around and eventually got out of her bed. She checked her mirror and saw her orange curly hair knotted and dirty, she was still in yesterday's clothing and saw her jeans had a hole in them. Sophie changed and stepped outside. This was defiantly not her home. Where her living room would be was a white room with a surgery table and a single bloody saw; she ran outside and tried to recall the events of last night. She could only remember short moments- the pounding of her heart, screams, and her home being bombed. She heard the sound of a dentists' drill. "Hello?" She tried to say above the ear piercing noise. She looked around and didn't see any signs of people other than the bloody surgery table. She didn't know why she was still here, she headed for the door and no one stopped her so she assumed she was safe to leave. She stepped outside and began walking down large concrete steps. Her pace quickened to a jog and then a run. She rubbed her forehead and noticed dry blood and felt stitches running along her hairline. Sophie stopped. She didn't know what to do. Her family was gone, her home was gone and she didn't know where she was. She sobbed. The tears wouldn't stop rushing down her cheeks her sister Ana, her brother Charles her mother her father. All dead- just like that, it was that woman with the gun. Slowly and shakily she arose and continued to walk. She tried to figure out who and why someone would kill her family. She pulled out her phone and called her sister- just to hear her voice mail. "I HAVE HER ON TH- SHHH! Hey! Are you ok? Where are you!?" Her sister had a panicked voice, she was alive?

"Where am I? Well… I honestly don't know, wait-Where are you? " Sophie's voice got high and she honestly was more scared than she had been in

her entire life. Beeeeepppppp. She lost signal. Sophie rubbed her face, she didn't even have an

idea of what at she needed to do. Sophie tried to re-call her sister but a man answered.

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"You have exactly six hours to find out where your family is and return to them. If you fail to do so, you'll be brainwashed and you'll kill every single one of them- from second cousins you've never met to your dog. Not a single thing will be left alive."

The man had a raspy distinct voice. She wasn't sure if she'd ever heard it before, it was very unusual. Sophie focused on what she needed to do. Find out where they were, she could call them and trace their location, probably not. That's not how this kind of stuff works. It was 3:45. She had until 9:45. Sophie had some time but probably not enough.

Sophie began to walk again she had an idea; that brick house from last night. She knew exactly where it was; it would take about an hour and a half to walk there. Sophie began to get lost in thought when she felt a blow on the back of the head from behind. Her knees began to give way and her vision be became distorted with tiny black dots. Sophie woke up and checked the time- it was already 5:50! She rubbed her head where a knot was growing. Sophie began to walk again. She headed toward the brick building it was about five miles north so she began to jog. She didn't have much time left so she had to hurry.

Again she began to see spots and events of last night popped into her head, they were all fuzzy- she continued to jog. The building came insight. She checked her watch, 8:30 she only had an hour and fifteen minutes!?! It's not even dark yet. This can't be right- this was all a mind game thought Sophie.

She slowed down when she got to the back entrance of the building. This was it. She walked in, the first thing she saw was a chair, in that chair she found the

yellow package the woman had last night, inside of it was a message wrapped around a small hand gun. The note read:

"Congratulations. You've done it; you've found your family. Now find me." She looked around. No family. She looked down at the gun lying in her hand, it

felt heavy and cold. A mans chuckling startled her. She whipped her head around. "You've done it. It was all a test, you passed." He was rather plump and his

balding head seemed to shine bright regardless of the dark building. "You are now an official citizen of The Dictatura. You have shown great bravery. "

Natalie Phillips 7th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Scheloe Woodson

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The Unexpected I heave the surprisingly heavy car door open. A calm breeze collides against my tired sunken face. One less school day before summer. I hop out of my mom's ebony Nissan Juke, expecting two English Setters and one Black Lab beyond the dog fence. However, only one English Setter and Black Lab meet my eyes. Instantly, I know something's wrong. "Where's Spot?" I ask my mom. "I don't know," She replies. I heave open the wooden entryway door, confused and concerned. "Job," my dad calls, "Come over here. I want to talk to you about something..." I slouch into the living room, then collapse onto the couch, tired from a long day. My family sat around me. Dad started to explain why there was one English Setter, and not two. "We found Spot today lying on the ground, and figured he was sleeping," my dad explained, "only he wasn't. Spot was shaking; he wasn't breathing. We took him to the vet, and they couldn't find the problem. They figured that he had a heart attack." A long moment of heavy silence sat in the room. Tears started to break through my eyes. I was the only person in my family who actually showed love to the hyperactive bird dog. He ran so much that he made trails in the dog lot. Also, he would only allow me to pet him for more than three seconds. Tears were now streaming down my cheeks. I sprint upstairs then dash into my bedroom. I leap onto my bed, then throw my head into a fluffy red pillow, letting my tears soak into the fabric. I lift my head, take a breath of fresh air, then throw myself back into the pillow. My bedroom door squeaks open as I do this, yet I pay no attention to whoever enters. "Hey Job," I make out from the voice of my oldest brother, Isaac. "Job, I have something I need to tell you. I think it might help," he says. "Spot's in a better place. Just think how happy he is, chasing birds in the fields up there, making new trails. He's in a much better place and..." I lift my head up when he finishes talking. My droopy red eyes meet his, then I hug him. "Thanks," I tell Isaac, "It's just that I feel like I didn't given him enough attention; I didn't enjoy him enough." "Nobody gave him enough attention. We're all really sad about it too. If we had one wish, we would want to have Spot back to spend more time with him," My brother said, which made me feel a lot better. After a long pause, Isaac starts to leave. "Oh yeah. Dinner's ready," Isaac says right before he slips out the door. I slide off my bed, then follow him downstairs into the kitchen. Before I reach the dinner table, I make a U-turn towards the only two dogs left in the house. I kneel down in front of Dixie and Dan and reach my arms around them both; I pull them in tightly. I whisper in both of their long floppy ears, "I love you."

Job White 7th Grade Baylor School Ms. Conway

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War, Time, and Checkmate It was December 25, 2052, when I was called into action. I am a war hero now, but getting here was a wild ride. My squad went out and the car was freezing, as was I. We grabbed our guns and fired. This is it. War. We were in huddled behind a snow mound, and we were being slammed by Russian scum. They fired their focus combines and we fired back. We were trapped. We needed back-up. I decided we needed to make a run for it. On the count of three we sprinted for our lives and made it to the base. We needed to make a plan. We decided to flank them with invisibility. The snow and cold, however, would not help. We were slowly making progress when we realized they had heat signatures. We were spotted. I sprinted as we were shot at, and I realized my men didn’t follow. I was the last one. I had to make it to the command center to detonate the bomb. I took the enemy’s gear and clothes and snuck in. The plasma canon I had fired off of a hair trigger. I flew into the air and landed on the bomb and was stuck. I had to hold the men off of deactivating the bomb. Why did I sign up for this? I couldn’t take it. I had bullet holes all over me. I activated the self-destruct reactor and hid. I was tackled and the Russian had a knife. The blade was colder than the storm as it crept to my throat. I was struggling more than ever before. It was the end. Boom! Minutes later I stood. How was I alive? I looked up and saw my men holding my force field command on the ship. I looked up and laughed. Was I insane or was I just glad it was over? The war was over, but the destruction has just begun.

Jude Wilferth 7th Grade Signal Mountain Middle/High School Jennifer McGann

   

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[  7th  Grade  Poetry  ]   Who Am I? The animal nobody really knows about, but just hears about from time to time. Enjoy swimming for long hours in its homeland of lakes and streams. Always on alert with watchful eyes ready to dart into a crevice for protection from its prey. With silky soft skin making it easier to swim faster to get away from the next species trying to devour it. Like humans, this animal is a mammal and protects and nurture its young. The male stands up like a king trying to save his kingdom from destruction. While the female, stays at home trying to develop the young to model their great father. With the Greek name means "broad foot", This mammal is becoming extinct by the minute because it's meat is considered a delicacy. It will do anything for its kind and for us humans need to do for each other. You're probably wondering what this mysterious, graceful, loving mammal might be. It is the one and only, Platypus

LaRyn Claridy 7th Grade Baylor School Mrs. Collins

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Cirque du Freak Come to the circus, the parade. Come to our show and enjoy our pain. Come, see the show- The skeletal women, the muscle men. Come, see our empty smiles- our paper skin. Come, hear the laughter- we’re good at acting. Come, see our show- we’re good at faking. Come, we’ll invite you in- to our circus of freaks. But you won’t know. You won’t know that we’re faking you don’t know where we’ve been. You don’t want too see behind our smiles, our paper skin. You want to be entertained you can’t handle the truth.

Olivia Graham 7th Grade Normal Park Sue Evans

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Night Shift of the Jungle Deep in the sub-canopy of a rainforest in Laos, a pygmy slow Loris, nycticebus pygmaeus wakes from its slumber. Slowly, it unwinds its reddish brown furry body from its ball, exposing its white-gray belly to the hot, humid jungle air. Taking its head out from between its legs, with its rings around its eyes making it look like an office worker who worked way too late. Every slow Loris has its own unique markings. As the sun goes down, its journey begins. Even though it is slow, it never stops moving during the night. Hand over feet; it grasps the branches of the trees and moves along silently. The twenty centimeter long body is almost invisible in the primal jungle night. Although it primarily eats vegetation and fruit, small birds and animals will never see it coming. But there is one the pygmy slow Loris fears, the reticulated python. When a pygmy slow Loris is threatened, it will pause and lick its elbows. You may ask why it would do that, and it is because it has poison sweat glands on its elbows. It has a toxic bite that can kill its prey and predators, and can put a human in anaphylactic shock. Maybe this is why they are called "khi gio" and are a sign of black magic in Vietnamese folklore. Nearly becoming breakfast for a seven foot reticulated python, the pygmy slow Loris walks ever gracefully, hand over feet, back to its tree. It curls up into a ball, tucks its head between its legs, and once again enters a deep slumber.

William Ingraham, 7th Grade Baylor School Ms. Collins

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Dragons Dragons Their scales are like strong chain mail Their eyes are the color of molten gold The heat of their stare will make you grow cold Their claws like spears A dragon creates many fears Gleaming like a new penny they soar through the air Wherever they go they bring great despair Dragons Aggressive and protective Defensive and intensive A dragon always strikes fear So you should never go near Live thousands of years without aging Their fierceness is never waning Dragons A roar like an earsplitting screech Their silky words ringing like struck metal Let you know to prepare for battle Almost impossible to slay A dragon will always claim its prey Dragons If things go wrong you should run For meeting a dragon is not much fun Hope that one does not awake For the one at fault has made a mistake Dragons

Davis Payne 7th Grade Signal Mountain Middle High School Jennifer McGann

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Harmony When all the angels sing The right color found and perfectly positioned Words and pigment spill to the page. Voices fill the air with harmonious notes. Colors and notes blended in harmony Blended colors and mixed up words Lasting longer than life Angels voices sweet as honey Poised pencils waiting to tattoo the paper Brushes submerged in colorful lakes Spread across the naked canvas. Inking paper. Permanent words Filling air. Air enhanced with voices Harmonious art working to hypnotize Distracting from the evil The broken notes, the dark angel The smudges and splatters from frustrated brushes. The mistaken imprints, Unruly words and wild pencils Through the eyes of the artist only, can evil be sighted out of harmony.

Abigail Patterson 7th Grade Chattanooga High School Center for Creative Arts Sandra Howard

Bullies A present tense verb/plural noun that no one understands A word everyone excuses “Oh, its just elementary school/middle school/high school/life. Those are hard years.” And all you bullies keep on going (Trying so hard) to make that one girl feel miserable Bloody words whispered behind ghost cruel fingers: “Fat.”

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But you don't know How hard she's trying to bury herself in an avalanche of diet pills Not knowing (not caring?) that by then she'll be a skeleton of broken truths and bloated lies Of dreams that fell and dreads that didn't And as she stands on that scale and stares in the face of her adversary She screams, “Don't you know I'm human?” And that girl who lost her real life The bully who let it slip out of his fingers Where it fell to the floor and shattered like glass And he didn't care. So now she's just a shell of the girl she once was, Sitting in the back of the class quiet as a photograph That’s been torn and never taped back together. But in the end She's a human girl-- did you know that? And all the victims Don't you know that they can feel, too? The deep cuts you make That will most likely never heal completely So Why Don't You Stop ?

Emily Perez 7th Grade Signal Mountain Middle High School Heather Harwood

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Half Way Between the top of the water, where the toddlers bob like apples, And the bottom, where the daredevils dive like enemy subs, I drift. I feel like a bird above the hustle of the city. All of the stress leaves my body. My eyes are closed And my mind goes blank. I'm weightless and worry less. The water soothes my skin. My hair goes in a direction. I think only of my held breath if anything. These moments are the most peaceful of my summer. I forget about the world above the water. I forget about the upcoming school year, The reading, And the people. These moments are my escape. But suddenly, I wake from the surreal oasis. One of the land dwellers leaps from the diving board And the ripples disturb my tranquility. I lifelessly float to the top of the water. I inhale, Becoming aware of the perverse work around me, I sigh, and the stress returns along with the worries. I leave the surface, back down. And return To my blissful paradise. I feel my blood rush down my spine And I know this is my sanctum.

Charlsey Sullivan 7th Grade Baylor School Ms. Collins

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The Husky The coat like a blanket Soft black and white fleece covering him Running through the snow Pulling the heavy wooden sleigh The cold weather not feared by the fierce husky The tiny partials of snow sitting at the tips of each strand of fur The heavy white snow covering the black on his nose Each paw making heavy deep prints in the snow Not showing weary He runs And runs And runs As if the wooden sled and the man on it were chasing him He was fast Faster than a cheetah The thick warm coat helps him get through the cold Weighing from 45-60 lb. They're blue eyes like pearls Originally the huskimos His white paws pop in and out of the snow He runs until the day dissolves Till the sun is lost in the dark The husky runs And runs And runs All night

Pranav Talluri 7th Grade Baylor School Ms. Conway

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Water Therapy The words that splatter from your mouth, shatter my self-esteem, which trickles downward like the beads of water streaking my shower door. The drops, reflecting the distorted image that you helped create, with millions of translucent faces staring back at me. I wipe away the steam, and the vapor disappears. Water, streaming from my hand, drains my hurt and cleanses my mind.

Kit Turner Grade 7 Girls' Preparatory School Jenny Bullard

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Thunder Thunder is the terrible noise, That shakes you and rattles you, Right down to the bones. Thunder is the monsters, Under your bed, when you were six, Scaring you with every roaring boom. But thunder can also Be beautiful. It can be wild mustangs’ Pounding hoof-beats, Galloping across the wild plains of the west. Or thunder could be The melodious beat to a Native American’s war drum. Thunder is what you Choose to make it. Should it be an angel’s powerful Wing-beats, flying across the sky, Or the horrible giants, Pelting you with boulders, In your dreams, scaring you, Daring you to scream. Thunder will always be, What you choose to

Lucy Woodrow 7th Grade Signal Mountain Middle/High School Heather Harwood

   

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[  8th  Grade  Prose  ]   Photoshop

America has officially mastered the mechanics of Photoshop. Day-by-day hundreds of edited and distorted pictures are printed out for the public to see of impossible beauty. The expectations for men and women of becoming the best example of their gender are far too high. What about the models or actresses that are the ones having their own photos distorted? Think of the pain that they go though as every single flaw of their own natural beauty is being pointed out. As a result, many people of the world suffer from as far as jealousy to eating disorders. This horrible creation has affected the innocent women in our society mentally, and physically.

Studies have shown that a there has been an increase in anorexia because of the fallacy of the perfect body image. These people look at these pictures and realize how much of a difference there is between themselves and the man or woman posing in the photo. Some women would do anything possible to meet their standards of becoming their ideal representation of beauty. What they need to realize is that every imperfection we have is what makes us unique.

The real goal of a company selling face products is to edit the photos so much that it will come to the point where the beauty will become unrealistic. This will then cause the women whom are seeing this product to become more insecure about the way they look. Then they buy the product being sold so that they will feel more secure about themselves. This is how the company receives more and more money with the use of Photoshop. They are using our insecurities for their money. Who knew that there were people that actually Photoshop men and women's photographs for a living, but not to mention the very high cost that the companies have to pay to actually own these perfectly imperfect pictures.

Let's not forget about the various social networks filters that can be chosen that will slightly alter the way your picture will look after it is posted. Few people have taken the time to realize that maybe that wasn't such a good idea. If you really start to pay attention to the media like I did, you will start to become strongly disappointed with the way our society thinks.

To constantly believe in the lie "Oh, I need to be pretty to be happy." is coming from what our society believes. Although we tend to blame our society for believing such horrible things, we forget that we are the society. So in order to make it a better place, we have to change ourselves first.

Rebecca Atkins 8th Grade Baylor School Ms. Conway

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The Right to Privacy, the Right to Speak

When most people imagine the United States’ national intelligence agencies, they picture stealthy Special Ops missions taking place in faraway countries and technicians hacking into terrorist databases. In reality, these acts of espionage are occurring in your pocket and on your desk: you phone and computer. Previously unbeknownst to the public, the USA and other countries were revealed to be engaging in programs of mass electronic surveillance, gathering information from phone calls and texts and monitoring internet activity. While many believe that this surveillance is acceptable as a form of national security, others agree that such an invasion of privacy is unconstitutional and should not continue. In June of 2013, a former Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and National Security Agency (NSA) employee named Edward Snowden disclosed hundreds of classified government documents that detailed national and global surveillance programs. Upon the publication of the files by the Guardian, Snowden, who had flown to Hong Kong just days before, began seeking asylum in over 20 countries, fearing government retribution; however, the US immediately revoked his passport, demanding that he return to America to stand trial. Snowden retorted stating he’d been stripped of a constitutional right; the right to seek asylum. This was certainly not the first time whistleblowers such as Snowden have been denied their rights; former NSA official Bill Binney’s actions against the mass surveillance programs have earned him an armed FBI raid on his home in 2007, and well-known activist Julian Assange of WikiLeaks has been threatened several times with arrest and even assassination. The actions taken against whistleblowers in today’s government can be described as nothing less than prohibiting freedom of speech - a violation of the First Amendment. The programs of mass surveillance themselves, however, present another major violation of the United States public’s rights. The Fourth Amendment states, “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches or seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.” The programs disregard the Amendment entirely, collecting the personal and electronic information of foreign and domestic civilians alike. While the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court (FISA court) has prescribed procedures for minimizing the amount of data collected from US citizens, it still allows the NSA to retain it and use it. The programs blatantly disregard or rights to privacy and also the requirement of a warrant to search through said effects; this also has been unconstitutionally justified by the FISA court. Nevertheless, it seems the majority of the population finds no problem with the NSA programs; as much as 56 percent of Americans believe it is “acceptable” for the national intelligence agency to monitor in this way. In fact, at least 45 percent agree that the government should be allowed to continue and even go further with the programs if it would prevent future terrorist attacks. Bill Binney, a former senior NSA official, however, disagrees; in an interview with the Guardian, he recalled developing a small software network in the late 1990s called ThinThread that tracked emails, phone, calls, internet activity and other personal information. Intended to be used only for foreign intelligence, the system worked too well and constantly collected American data as well. Binney

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created safeguards to minimize the amount of American data collected, and the system continued doing its intended purpose: exposing national threats. After the September 11th attacks, however, the safeguards were removed by the NSA and surveillance continued on a much larger scale, including the United States. Binney believes that today’s mass surveillance has defeated its purpose; “The terrorists win, OK? We’ve lost because we have destroyed our society just to combat them and there was really no need to do that. (The Guardian, 2012)” While the NSA’s mass surveillance programs’ unconstitutionality is overlooked by most, it is yet another offense against the citizens of America by its government. Many disregard these offenses, but it is our job to set things right.

Jonah Bird, 8th Grade Normal Park with Carrie Willmore

The Forgotten One It is the year twenty-twenty-five and all has changed over the years. Every which way there is control. You couldn’t say a word without someone hearing of it. So when the government catches word of an attack or rebellion the government could easily put an end to it.

There is one small group of people who are highly disgraceful to the normal people. They are the lowest of the low. They have no education. They have no jobs. They have no friends. They are known as the Untouchables. So the government doesn’t deem it necessary to even bother with what they say or do. But, oh, were they wrong. They discovered that a young eight year old kid had escaped from his orphanage, but that was not what really bothered the government, it was the fact that this kid happened to be the great grandson of Sherlock Holmes, and his name was David Archeus Holmes.

At the orphanage he stood out! People looked at him as if he were a bug; some even treated him like one. But what got him most was that even when people came for adoption, they would come by me and give me a disgusted look and then pass me. Slowly growing sad and weary over the years, I began turning to the thought of escaping and committing suicide. That was when I heard a rumor that was spreading about me! The rumors were spread by the keepers of the orphanages. They had been telling the parents that I was a murderer. I now knew that no one would ever love me like a real son. That is when I decided that this is when I should do it.

So that night I made my escape! While the produce trucks were unloading the goods into the cafeteria, I managed to slip my way through the shadows and into the back of one of the cargo trucks that had just started departing and I lightly closed the back. I sat there for hours, or at least what seemed liked hours, before I finally heard the rushing of the river around us. I maneuvered around the crates of empty food and opened the trunk’s back. There was no one behind us as far as I could tell. So I masked my jump with that of a bump on a bridge and landed with a thump on the cracked bridge. The truck rolled off without the slightest clue. I stood up and examined my surroundings. In front of me was the wall that overlooked the river. To my sides the bridge continued out

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of sight. But what was stranger that anything was the lack of life around here. No bugs. No birds. No humans.

“This is where I will last see anything that is worth seeing,” I whispered to myself and walked over to the wall and pulled myself up. The wind suddenly picked up, blowing like it did on the cool autumn days, whipping at my heels, and I slowly inched forward until I reached the edge.

“Wait,” a voice hollered, stopping me in my tracks. I had heard that voice only once in my life and that voice belonged to a CD that was recorded three centuries ago. I slowly turned towards the face of the voice and peered into the cool charcoal black eyes that stared back at me. Then I began processing hundreds of things at once. The clothing: first, Black overcoat, trimmed down two inches, which means that it is was too big at one point, second, tie, brown, no crinkles, means recently ironed, third, black starched pants which had a golden button on it, must means he`s rich. All in all, he must have been someone important. But then I remembered the voice, which was the clue that gave it all away. The voice that I had heard on the CD was that of my great grandfather, who supposedly disappeared three centuries ago.

“Sherlock Holmes,” I whispered to myself. “How could you tell?” he asked with a strong British accent. “The clothes were one thing. And the other was the voice. They showed me the

CD at that atrocious place people call the orphanage,” I said. “Interesting,” he replied. “Now what do you want? I have something to do.” “Come now, do you think I do not know what you’re trying to do?” he replied. “Well then why are you here, because after all these years I’ve been left alone

with nothing but me and the tears of loneliness?” I said, with the tears beginning to come out but I blinked them back. A sad and distraught sign lightly covered his face.

“But you were never alone,” he replied. “Then where were you? I needed someone who cared for me in these times of

loneliness,” I said trying to hold back the tears but they forced themselves through. “I just couldn’t come, you were being watched closely,” he said. “Then why are we talking, they could be monitoring us right now,” I said. “But that’s the thing, they aren’t, because I am an untouchable!” he said. “Then- why are you in expensive clothing,” I asked. “Well I thought I might make an impression on you so I wore this.” “Well what do you want then?” I asked. “Well the thing is we need you. There is something happening that we need you

to be a part of. So please will you come?” he asked with what sounded like a plea in his voice.

“Fine, I will,” I replied crawling off the wall and landing on the bridge. He walked over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder and we began walking away.

“You may want to start recording this stuff too. You know, just in case.” “I guess so,” I replied and we walked off into the dampening alley as it swallowed

us up into its darkness.

Justin Lightfoot Davis, Grade 8 Brown Middle School with Monica Brown

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Vegetarianism is a Healthy Option Don’t support the brutal and cruel treatment of animals, go vegetarian. Not only does it help the animals but it is also one of the healthiest options out there. Many people believe that vegetarianism isn’t a healthy option and that by cutting meat out of your diet you’re taking away your only source of protein, iron, and calcium. When in reality there are a lot of options for supplementing and substituting the missing nutrients. Vegetarianism is a healthy option and can meet nutritional requirements. To begin with, a vegetarian diet has more health benefits than one that involves meat. While taking meat out of your diet does remove the most prominent source of protein, there are still plenty of ways to substitute it. Protein can be found in nuts and whole grains, if someone was going vegan (cuts not only meat but all animal products out of diet) a good source of calcium is almond milk, rice milk, or soy milk, all three of which are healthier and give more calcium than dairy. Vitamin B12 and iron can be supplemented in to your diet and are found in fortified cereals. In the article “A Vegan Diet Can Cause Malnourishment Especially in Children” Holly Paige, mother of four, had gone a raw vegan diet with her two youngest children for going on three years. But because of a protein and vitamin deficiency they had become malnourished. This shows that while vegan diets can be extremely healthy, that if you don’t know what you’re doing it can be dangerous. In addition, Vegetarianism may be a minority in places like the United States, it is gaining popularity. Vegetarianism has come and gone throughout history for the 2,500 years in various civilizations and plays a big role in many religions, including Christianity. Some people consider themselves vegetarian but still sometimes eat fish (pescetarian), chicken (pollotarians), or eggs (ovovegetarians) only qualifying red meat as “meat” in their diet. So there are many diets that are as close to vegetarian as some people are willing to go but are still a just as healthy of a lifestyle. Being vegetarian can leave gaps in your diet that are normally filled by meat. The article “A Vegetarian Diet Can Be Hazardous if it’s Not Nutritionally Balanced” states “most vegetarians and particularly vegans must supplement their B vitamins, calcium, and iron or eat fortified foods like protein bars/powders, soy or rice milk and cereals.” This shows that it can be difficult to find all the nutrients you need if leading a vegetarian life style but it most certainly isn’t impossible. Also, that if you do succeed your living a much better, healthier lifestyle than someone who eats meat. My family, my mom, dad and myself, led a vegan life style for a year when my dad was having health problems. We took meat, eggs, dairy, and other animal products out of our diet and it solved the problems with my dad’s health.

You might think that a vegetarian lifestyle is dangerous or wrong and can cause nutrients and protein deficiency. If you do, you aren’t wrong. According to “A Vegan Diet Can Cause Malnourishment Especially in Children”, an article about Holly Paige who was leading a raw vegan lifestyle with her two youngest children, that even when you’re leading what you think is a healthy organic lifestyle it can cause malnourishment, protein deficiency, and lack of vitamin-D. “Lizzie should have been flourishing. Instead, her cheeks were pinched, she was small for her age, and although she has skinny arms and legs her belly was big and swollen. When Lizzie smiled, her front teeth were pitted with holes.” So yes there are dangers to a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle if you lead naively

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or incorrectly without supplementing the needed vitamins. A vegetarian diet can be the healthiest, but it can also be rather dangerous. In conclusion, it is possible for a vegetarian diet to give you the nutrients you need. So while it does give you the nutrients you need if you don’t supplement iron and the missing vitamins it can be hazardous. But if you do take the necessary precautions are extraordinary. Vegetarianism is a healthy, beneficial, easy way to stay healthy and fit. Do you want to be unhealthy?

Gracie Headrick 8th Grade Normal Park Carrie Willmore

Dark against Light the Never Ending Battle Jack had seen enough. Shutting his eyes, he blocked out the terror until the worst was over.” Jack slowly opened his eyes. His whole world was unraveling at the seam. He saw that everyone he knew and loved was gone. As Jack shakily arose from the cold ground, he now saw the barren land. Where families used to live, where joyous occasions once took place. The atmosphere was cold and still. It was just white. Nothing surrounding him, he wandered along the white and he tripped over a rock, the shape of it was odd. A heart is a peculiar thing to find. He then heard a roaring noise. Jack, lost in confusion, was snapped back into reality once he heard the loud boom which sounded like a bomb had went off. The noise was so massive it shook the ground. They had broken through the pure white background. “How is this even possible?” Jack said to himself. “Jaydes was right! The pure heart is here! The hero is holding it!” A man said, he sounded like a pirate, looked like one too, with a massive beard, and a dirty presence. Everything was silent except for the quiet sobs of the men, whose lives had just been saved. Jack looked up at the men. The men in the large metallic boat drove towards Jack. One of the men reached their hand down to Jack. He took the man’s hand and was pulled up. “Thanks…” Jack muttered awkwardly. He glanced up at the towering men. “Lenny? John?” Jack said, still unsure. “The boy remembers us, Lenny!” John said, with a howling laugh and his massive hand pounded on Jack’s back making him lose his balance. “Sorry boy forgot you are only a wee lad,” Jack stood up then the boat came to a halt and Jack was thrown once more. “The boy does not have enough girth to be ridin’ while George is drivin’.You have to be captin’!” “Right away Capt’!” Lenny exclaimed. As Lenny began to drive the boat, George had left. “What is happening?” “The Dark Prophecy, be comin’ true lad.”

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“The Dark Prophecy?” Jack said puzzled. “It is the tale of how all is going to end. You are the only one who can do anything,” John said, with hope in his eyes. “Me!” Jack shouted, the fear in his eyes widening. “In Light Prophecy, the one who survives devastation of different dimensions colliding is the one to delay the end of the world. The Dark Prophecy is the truth, the Light Prophecy is only written to counteract the dark one,” John sighed. “Dimentio is the ruler of all dimensions. He wants to destroy all worlds and have nothing but emptiness,” John said. “Jack it is very dangerous I don’t want you getting involved,” “John, the ancients chose me. I can’t deny them even if I may be killed. I have to try,” Jack said proudly. “That was heroic. Don’t get egotistical. If you let your head get too big Dimentio will have a good target,” A voice said while slowly fading into the dim light. “Well maybe that will be more beneficial to me. Keep on with your bragging. The more confidence you have the more fun it will be to tear down. Why don’t we take this outside?” Dimentio said, and clapped his hands and they all appeared outside in a green vortex. “Let us go!” John shouted “Oh shut your trap you bumbling pirate,” Dimentio said. With the flick of his wrist he threw John into the background. Jack exclaimed. “Dimentio how dare you!” “You believe having one of the pure hearts will save you? If you were truly the hero spoken of you wouldn’t be so naive!” Dimentio said as his voice escalated. “Since you won’t be a problem why don’t I spare you?” “That is my kind master, always so thoughtful,” Lenny said. “Ah-ha-ha, while you worried about Jonathan, you failed to realize that your brave captain confronted me to save you, such a selfish Hero. This has been much fun but, we both know the antagonist is always victorious,” “Nice monologue Dimentio, haven’t heard it since the last hero of prophecy rained on your parade,” A soft voice said. “This young brave hero came to me in the night to purify the damage done to the pure heart,” Jaydes said whilst nodding towards Jack. “That was real? I thought it was just a dream,” The words stumbled of out of Jack’s mouth. “What happened to the pure heart?” Jack said, his eyes darted towards Jaydes. Jaydes eyes met Jack’s and she said, “Look inside yourself. ‘When the faint smell of death draws near, look inside and you will hear what you have needed to do all along.’ The last entry in the Light Prophecy, Jack you will have to write the next. Do what your heart tells you to do,” Jaydes said whilst leaving the vortex. “Well this has been such a joy, but life for you will be more pleasant in the underworld. It is time for you to die. Ciao!” Dimentio said whilst a glowing heart of black darted from his chest. The Chaos Heart had been released. Jack collapsed. Lenny and John fell unconscious. As Jack was falling through a spiral of darkness, a light peaked through the darkness. Jack fought against the downward pull of the vortex. He kept going towards the

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light. “Maybe this will end you, Dimentio once and for all!” Jack shouted as his had touched the pure heart. “When the Hero of Prophecy and the Pure Heart collide all evil shall be vanquished. All will be restored to its once former glory, but as for the hero. He shall fade out of existence. His death will not be in vain,” The last page of the Light Prophecy was written by Jack.

Alicia Howard 8th Grade Heritage Middle School Billie Carlock

 

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A Journey to the Bottom of the Sea

Darkness crept upon us as we sank deeper and deeper. This is not what I planned for my summer vacation. This is how it all started, a few days ago mom suggested we go to the beach in Florida. Three days later we packed up and left. I had never been to the beach before and will never forget this trip.

No words could explain my feeling at the first sight of this huge body of water against the skyline. Excited and content I played in the sand making sure not to get my clothes wet. I went to get the sand off my feet and hands and noticed a small sign near the water’s edge that read “Area Has an Increased Risk for Drowning”. The warm water felt perfect. When I walked into the ocean, my foot slipped in a hole. Just then mom called out to me and said, “Time to get something to eat.” My stomach was growling so I hurried out of the water.

We went to an Oceanside seafood restaurant that was wonderful. Mom kept looking at her phone, and when she received a call, she wouldn’t let me hear her conversation. “Hmmm, what could she be up to,” I thought. I excused myself to the bathroom and to my surprise my best friend was sitting in my seat when I got back. I had no idea that my best friend was in Florida too! “My life is awesome!” I said. Gabrielle is a tall, smart blond, who is an absolutely amazing person. She had lived in Jamaica as a missionary with her family.

Gabrielle’s mom, Sherry, asked if we all wanted to go to the beach, and of course we said “YES!” Fully clothed, we went to the beach. We went to the same spot mom and I was at before and just soaked our feet in the edge of the warm water.

It turns out Gabrielle and I were staying in a big, beautiful condo our moms rented secretly to surprise us. However, it was already bedtime by the time we got unpacked and settled in. We would have loved to stay up all night talking, but my mom told us, “the sooner you two go to bed, the sooner you two can get up and go back to the beach.” After that, we fell asleep like hibernating bears. After breakfast, we went to the same place as the day before, where the hole I had slipped in was. Once again, I paid no attention to the sign. We both slipped in the hole this time and sunk down to our chests. Just as we both took a deep breath, the hole sucked us in!

Panicked, Gabrielle and I stared at each other needing to gasp for air, but it was of no use. Darkness crept upon us as we sank deeper and deeper. We started swimming towards a distant light because we were about to pass out. We swam faster and harder than ever before. My head was throbbing and my heart was beating out of my chest. Why hadn’t I paid attention to that sign? All the sudden, everything around me started to fade. Right as everything turned black, I saw Gabrielle already unconscious. I thought for sure she was dead. That’s when we were sucked into the light.

When I woke up I was in a cave, Gabrielle was right beside me. Gabrielle and I were both on floating glass tables. I didn’t know what was happening or where we were. “Gabrielle,” I felt like I screamed her name, yet it was only a whisper. “Chanler, I need to go home!” Gabrielle weakly said. I screamed hoping for someone to come in. That’s when I saw a mermaid or I thought I saw a mermaid. Maybe I was dreaming. If she was real, I hoped that she was friendly because I felt weak, tired, and scared. There was no way I could fight for our lives.

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“Hello, girl” the mermaid said. My eyes darted in the blue water. It really was a mermaid; her eyes shot a glance at Gabrielle my eyes followed. “Your friend there, she almost didn’t make it.” Gabrielle wasn’t fully conscious yet. “Who are you?” I asked her. “Princess Oceanus,” she said. “What, mermaids are real, could this even be happening?” I thought. “How are we breathing, aren’t we under water?” I asked. “It's magic. I gave you and your friend special necklaces so you can breathe under water. This cave at the bottom of the sea is for people who are sucked into the hole you two slipped in,” she whispered.

Oceanus gave us a swim back to the top. When we got to there, we thanked Oceanus and said good-bye as we exited back through the hole we had sunk down in. We saw our moms relaxing on the beach, still talking. I asked my mom what time it was and she said it was ten o’clock. I was confused because we got to the beach at nine fifty-eight. That was magic! It was then I kept hearing my name faintly and then louder and louder. I was being shaken. I came to and realized that I had slipped in the hole again and hit my head on a piece of driftwood floating by that knocked me out. Gabrielle was trying to wake me up so I wouldn’t drown. It was all just a dream, or was it? I told them my story and they didn’t believe me. Gabrielle had a twinkle in her eye, was it because we really had been with the mermaid at the bottom of the sea or because she saved my life? Whatever it was, our friendship grew deeper that day.

Chanler Hysell 8th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

Our Crazy Family

I have quite the family. It consists of my 3 year old sister, 6 year old sister, 18 year old brother, my 16 year old twin sister, and my father. We never get to have a normal day. The only normal people in my family are me and my sister.

For example, yesterday, my older brother, Micah, was jumping on me and my sisters' trampoline. The nerve of him!

Me and my sister, Lydia, walked over and asked him what he was doing. He told us he was just jumping. To shorten the argument up, we smacked him with a pillow and we took over the trampoline. He smacked us with a pillow and then we smacked him with a beanbag. Our sisters, Laney and Hope, started crying as my dad came in with a beanbag and almost killed us all. Our dad is a just a little crazy.

Later that day, for lunch, we sat down on our bed-table. Micah came in and jumped in the bed with a superman cape. Hope sat on him. 10 seconds later, my dad came in and told us we were eating grilled and fried bathroom supplies. Me and my sister ordered pizza. The rest ate the bathroom supplies. See how weird they are? And I'm just getting started.

This morning, when Micah was going to summer college, he was wearing a cape and a football helmet. My dad came out to give him his lunch and kissed him on the

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forehead. My dad had to go out for some reason, so me and Lydia were left in charge. Yippee!

We were sitting in the living room talking about shoes while our sisters played golf. How were we supposed to know that they couldn't play golf? Laney hit Hope in the face with the club, and Hope punched her in the face.

They were crying and dad came in a tutu and a football helmet! We asked him what he was wearing, and he said that he had just come home from his annual ballet class. Really?

He took them to the hospital, for some reason, and called Micah. Dad came in and would not leave sleeping Hope and Laney alone because "They are his daughters!". A few minutes of arguing later, Micah came in with a scarf wrapped around his head. Poor doctor, she didn't know what to think.

Me and Lydia came in and explained that he was our brother. She told us that the girls were fine, and, after dad arguing a lot, she kicked us out. We came and picked the girls up later.

Later that day, we bought Micah a cape because he got an F+ on his test. He loved it so much that he ran around right into my dad, who, coincidentally, was carrying hot soup. He spilt it all over Micah who ran around yelling "hot! hot! hot!". It was hilarious! Right before Hope and Laney went to bed, my dad said that he had a surprise for us. We got excited for some unknown reason.

Instead of something fun, he pulled out stinky cheese. Once we smelled it, we all passed out. Apparently, my dad was the only one unaffected by the cheese.

Now I could tell you many more stories, but that would take a while. I don't have that much time or space left. But these are only a few stories showing crazy our crazy family is.

Gabi Mirabella 8th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Mrs. Squires

School Times Should Start Later

. Join the group with thousands of others fighting the battle for later school times.

Teens are tired, cranky, and moody throughout the day but teens aren’t to blame. I say that school start times should start later.

Let’s say that your school starts at 8:00 a.m. If you’re a teen then you might not be fully awake until 9:30 or 10:00 am. “Teens require between 8-9 hours of sleep each night,” said Doctor Rodrigues, a medical director of St. Mary’s Sleep Disorder Center. Now a days, teens on average get about 5-6 hours of sleep. Lab researchers say that the average of sleep teens are getting is less than it ever has been. Take a second to think, “Is it hard for me to wake up in the mornings? Am I still tired when I start school?” Sleepy mornings are an effect of lack of sleep! Students have many obligations at night whether

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its homework, sports, or other extra-curricular activities, students are struggling to get enough sleep at nights.

Teens aren’t just staying up late for the fun of it. The physical body of teens and the environment that teens are in plays a major role in lack of sleep. The environment that teens are in can cause an effect on their sleeping “habits”. Artificial lights (TV, lamps, phones, etc.) can actually affect our body’s way to produce a chemical called Melatonin. When the lights dim in the evening, our body naturally produces Melatonin; the artificial lights can, in a way, confuse our body. Melatonin is a chemical that works like a internal clock. Melatonin tells your body that it’s time to go to bed. With artificial lights, the light never really dims. Without the dimness of lights the Melatonin won’t be produced. If our body doesn’t have Melatonin then it is extremely difficult to go to bed. Teens are also under a lot of pressure to succeed. With teens being under constant pressure and stress, makes it even more difficult to relax and sleep, said Doctor Rodrigues. Lack of sleep in general, is not good for you. Lack of sleep can lead to many health problems. Late nights can lead to obesity and mood swings (which is probably why most people think teens are rude). Lack of sleep and irregular sleep patterns, if you can call it patterns, can lead to what is known as DSPS. DSPS stands for Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. Being sleep deprived can cause negative effects on your body and on those around you. Researchers say that every 1 out of 5 car accidents are from drowsy drivers. So don’t you think that it would be safer to start school later for your child and others? Even though your body does try to help you catch up on sleep, the way your body “helps” can actually hurt you more. If you don’t get enough sleep during the week your body will naturally try to catch up on the weekends by sleeping in until noon. Catch up sleep on the weekend throws off your body clock even more. Going to sleep late, waking up early, going to sleep late, then sleeping in until noon! This pattern is not in sync. Researchers prove that if you catch up sleep on the weekends you’re more likely to get DSPS.

Yes, I am fully aware that other people out there say that school times need to stay where they are. Some say that if we start later then we won’t get home until 4p.m. or 5:00p.m. with sports and extracurricular. Also, if we get home late then we wouldn’t be able to spend time with family. But honestly, if we start later, then we can spend the amount of time with our families in the morning rather than at night. I think that schools all over should start later than they do now. With the outrageous hours that students wake up and go to bed at, they are risking health for themselves and others around them. Students can’t perform at their best when they are half asleep. Don’t you want your child to be the best they can at school and in their activities? Then why would you not stand up and help them? Band together and join the fight for later school start times!

Lili Oren 8th Grade Normal Park Carrie Willmore

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Dog Parks: Social Places

Dogs and their owners are making more friends and getting more exercise than ever because of a new nationwide movement: dog parks. If you want you and your dog to be healthy and joyful like everyone else, go to dog parks! Dog parks are popping up everywhere and more people and dogs are visiting them every day. Dog parks are good for dogs and people.

Dog parks help dogs meet dogs and people meet people. In addition to that, dog parks are so popular that more requests are made every day! Because of the large amount of dogs and people in one area, friendships are made among dogs and their owners. Dog parks are great social areas to meet new friends.

Dog parks allow dogs and people to get exercise. Furthermore, some people don’t even have yards where their dogs can exercise. This makes a dog park a convenient way to keep dogs and their owners healthy and joyful. Also, less health issues occur when owners and their dogs get a healthy amount of exercise. Dog parks are an awesome outlet for canine energy.

Dog parks are great places to train and socialize dogs. You see, lots of open space is better for training than a crowded house. Some people in large cities don’t even have yards to train in and a dog park allows them to train freely. Plus, the addition of plenty of furry friends makes a great place to socialize young dogs and puppies. Dog parks are choice areas to train and socialize dogs.

Other people say that dog parks are dangerous. They say that diseases and parasites lurk around every corner and small dogs are easy targets for “big viscous dogs.” These people are wrong about dog parks. If dogs are vaccinated, and most are, than why worry about diseases and parasites? As for the “big viscous dogs,” they are almost always just playing with the smaller dogs. Besides, a lot of smaller dogs love to think that they are big and scary and to make them seem more so, they will play with bigger dogs. Dog parks are not dangerous. They provide wonderful places for dogs to be dogs.

To sum up, dog parks are great for dogs and people. They provide open areas for exercise and training and are full of other people and dogs to allow for a wonderful social environment. They are not dangerous, as some people believe, but rather, are safe and fun for dogs and their owners. If you don’t want your dog to be the dog that is so fat it can barely move, obviously needs training, and is a downright hermit when it comes to other dogs, then go to dog parks and you will be ecstatic with the results!

Brennan Saucier 8th Grade Normal Park Carrie Willmore

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Plastic Pollutants Imagine an enormous patch of garbage, of plastic trash, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. This patch is not just big, it’s massive. It takes up 7 million square miles of ocean, and there isn’t just one. There are five of varying sizes in different areas of the world. These patches, the largest of which is the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, are composed mainly of small broken down pieces of plastic. In the first place, plastic like this pollutes the environment in several ways. It also harms life both in the sea and on land. Because of this, people need to decrease the amount of plastic they use and throw away. Plastic harms sea and land life. Sea turtles, mistaking plastic bags for jellyfish, attempt to eat them. As a result, the bag clogs their air ways leading to suffocation and death. Similarly, eating plastic is the potential cause of death of another animal. Certain species of birds also mistakenly eat plastic believing it to be a source of food. The ingested plastic takes up space in the birds’ stomachs allowing for no more food consumption. This causes the bird to starve, leading to a long and terrible death. This shows that plastic trash puts land and sea life at risk of death. Plastic products pollute the environment. Plastics put off harmful gases when produced. And, although they take millions of years to decomposed, more harmful air pollutants are released as they do. But, these are not the only ways that plastic pollutes the environment. Most plastics leach chemicals. These chemicals mimic estrogen, a sex hormone. This is even released by the plastics in sippy cups for babies. As this evidence shows, plastics pollute the environment in multiple, potentially stoppable ways. On the other hand, there are significant benefits and uses of plastics. The very properties of plastic, being lightweight and strong, make it a suitable material to be used in a variety of things. For example, plastics are often used in food and drink packaging. Everything from chairs to plastic milk jugs to computers to backpacks are made of plastic. This shows very well humanity's reliability on plastic and how hard it would be to give it up. However, plastic being widely used negatively affects us and our environment. Also, the fact that it is so durable means that is takes such an extremely long time to break down. The amount of plastic products used by people needs to greatly decrease. From the fact that plastic harms sea and land life, our environment, and even us, plastic has malignant effects on people, animals, and the environment. Recycling and using less plastic in general could save the world from the harmful effects of plastic, or would you rather live in a world dominated by plastic pollution.

Noah Vickers 8th Grade Normal Park Carrie Willmore

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It All Began with the Beans

When Dave, Gloria, and Melman came to Mexico, they did not know what interesting and fun events would come their way. For example, meeting Juan Pablo, the burrito and also the bean dealer who works at Taco Smell, was a pretty strange event. This is where the story begins.

You see, Juan Pablo was in jail in Canada for illegal bean dealing. However, these so called beans were not something you would want to eat. They would literally go right through you, and this was something very abnormal in Canada. After being in prison there, Juan was exiled to Mexico, where he would be a cook at Taco Smell. Being a cook included bean making, so Juan was off to his old bean dealing again, however it obviously wasn’t illegal to sell beans in Mexico because that is one of their normal foods. One day, Dave, the funny minion, Gloria, the sassy hippo, and Melman, the germaphobe giraffe, went to Taco Smell. They went through the drive-through and Gloria was driving. Once they came to window to get their food, there stood the most beautiful burrito to ever live, Juan Pablo. Juan and Gloria made instant eye contact and it was love at first sight. Juan got Gloria some beans and put a dash of love queso in them. Everyday after that Gloria would come back to see Juan Pablo. Juan Pablo would tell her that he loves her and would kiss her forehead. It was love. One night, Juan had the idea of going to America, just Gloria and him spending the rest of their lives together. They started walking towards the border, when all of a sudden Dave and Melman noticed Gloria was missing. They looked out the door and saw Gloria and Juan talking to the border police officers. They knew something fishy was going on. Melman and Dave followed them and somehow managed to cross the border, I guess with their hilarious comedy. Gloria and Juan crossed as well. Juan bribed the officers with his delicious, cheesy, refried beans. Dave and Melman knew one of the officers, Marty, who was Melman's brother and he let them two across the border. Juan and Gloria decided to travel to California and live there for a year before traveling across the whole United States. There they met multiple celebrities and famous people, including Chris Harrison, the host of The Bachelorette. They really enjoyed their time in Los Angeles, California. They even decided to maybe stay there a few more years before they traveled anywhere else. The whole entire time, Dave and Melman were secretly following them and watching them everywhere they went. After a week in America, Juan Pablo received a letter to be a bachelor on The Bachelorette. He didn’t really know what kind of show that was. He took the offer, however. Gloria had no idea he had gotten the letter or even taken the offer. Melman and Dave were still watching them. Juan Pablo even made it to the top six bachelors. Dave and Melman finally got up the nerve to tell Gloria about Juan and what was going on. When they told her, she immediately went on the Bachelorette to talk to the host, Chris Harrison. Juan Pablo got kicked off the show, out of Gloria's life, and America. Juan went back to Mexico to “start over” once again, while Gloria, Melman, and Dave stayed in California. They met a few movie directors and producers and decided to go into the acting business. They also met a few old Disney characters from past movies and they helped the group of friends with their acting skills.

All of the friends, except Juan decided to go into movie acting. Even today, they are all quite successful. Dave got a "despicable" role in a movie about an evil villain that

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came out to be a pretty nice guy in the end with the help of other minions and three orphans. Gloria and Melman stayed together for a while filming in New York City for a movie about zoo animals. Then, they and a few friends from the zoo got shipped to Madagascar. There, they were still being filmed, but just didn’t know it. However, they did come back to the states. They came back to California and met up with Dave. The movies they starred in became such a hit that they made four movies about the zoo animals and so far two about the evil villain, Dave, and his other minion friends.

Abby Woodard 8th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Scheloe Woodson

The Bully I walked into the Cracker Barrel restaurant in Los Angeles, California and sat down at the counter as all of the booths were taken. I picked up a menu and began to look at the various items trying to decide if I wanted to order breakfast or just go ahead and eat lunch. "Excuse me," said someone, as they touched me on the shoulder. I looked up and turned to the side to see a rather nice looking woman standing before me. "Is your name Rodger by any chance?" she asked me. "Yes." I responded, looking rather confused as I had never seen the woman before. "My name is Chloe and my husband is Dylan," she said, pointing to a distant table near the door leading into the bathrooms. I looked in the direction that she was pointing but I did not recognize the man who was sitting, alone at the table. "I'm sorry. I'm ah, confused. I don't think that I know you guys. But my name is Rodger. Roger Hawkins," I told her. "Dylan Claxton. Dylan from Moses Wikelund High School in Malibu, California?" she asked me. "I'm really sorry. The name doesn't ring a bell." I said. She turned and walked back to her table and sat down. She and her husband immediately began talking and once in a while I would see her turn around in her seat and look directly at me. I finally decided to order breakfast and a cup of decaffeinated coffee. I sat there continually racking my brain trying to remember who this Dylan guy was.

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"I must know him," I though to myself. "He recognizes me for some reason." I picked up my coffee up and took a sip. All of a sudden it came to me like a flash of lighting. "Dylan. Dylan the bully." I mumbled, as I swung myself around on my stool and faced in his direction. "The bully of ninth grade," I thought. How many times that guy had made fun of my big ears in front of the girls in my class? How many times this guy had laughed at me because I had no parents and had to live in an orphanage? How many times this big bully slammed me up against the lockers in the hallway just to make himself look like a big man to all the other students? He raised his hand and waved at me. I smiled, returned the wave and turned back around and began to eat my breakfast. "Goodness. He's so thin now. Not the big burley guy that I remember from back in 1975," I thought to myself. All of a sudden I heard the sound of dishes breaking so I spun around to see what had happened. Dylan had accidentally hit several plates knocking them off the table as he was trying to get into his wheelchair which had been parked in the bathroom hallway while they were eating. The waitress ran over and started picking up the broken dishes and I listened as Dylan and his wife tried to apologize. As Dylan rolled by me, being pushed by his wife, I looked up and I smiled. "Roger" he said, as he nodded his head forward. "Dylan" I responded, as I nodded my head, in return. I watched as they went out of the door and slowly made their way to a large van which had a wheelchair loader located in the side door of the vehicle. I sat and watched as his wife tried, over and over, to get the ramp to come down. But it just would not work. Finally I got up, paid for my meal, and I walked up to the van. "What's the problem?" I asked. "Darn thing sticks once in a while," said Dylan. "Could you help me get him in the van?" asked his wife. "I think I can do that," I said as I grabbed the wheelchair and rolled Dylan over to the passenger door. I opened the door and locked the brakes on the wheelchair. "OK. Put your arms around my neck." I said as I reached down and grabbed him around the waist and carefully raised him up into the passenger seat of the van. As Dylan let go of my neck I reached over and swung his limp, lifeless legs, one at a time, into the van so that they would be stationed directly in front of him. "You remember. Don't you?" he said, looking directly into my eyes.

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"I remember, Dylan," I said. "I know you're thinking 'What goes around comes around'," he said, softly. "I would never think like that, Dylan," I said, with a stern look on my face. He reached over and grabbed both of my hands and squeezed them tightly. "Is how I feel in this wheelchair how you felt way back then when you lived in the orphan home?" he asked me. "Almost, Dylan. You are very lucky. You have someone to push you around who loves you. I didn't have anyone." I responded. I reached in my pocket and pulled out one of my cards that had my home telephone number written on it and I handed it to him. "Give me a call sometime. We'll do lunch," I told him. We both laughed. I stood there watching as they drove toward the interstate and finally disappeared onto the southbound ramp. I hope he calls me sometime. He will be the only friend that I have from my high school days.

Anonymous 8th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Scheloe Woodson

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[  8th  Grade  Poetry  ]   A Tribute to Disney You grabbed my hand and I flew with you to NeverLand. We fought Captain Hook and his monstrous band. You lost your shoe at the ball. I could have bought you new ones at the mall. We ate apples and saw the dwarves leave. To wake up to a kiss was a dream. Thank you. We soared through the desert on carpet rides. Oh those Arabian nights. We swing through the trees and the vines. From then on, I kept the bear necessities of life. We stood on Pride Rock and watched the sun. Eating grubs was fun. Thank you. We swam and turned in the ocean blue. The last time I saw you, I saw you walking to your groom. I remember when I ate honey with you. We bounced with Tigger in the Hundred Acre Woods. We rang the bells of Notre Dame. Though you were misunderstood as a monster, you were as gentle as a lamb. Thank you. Thank you for the childhood you gave me. And thank you for the adventures I had. Thank you Walt Disney, I am ever so glad.

Hannah Abraham 8th Grade Heritage Middle School Billie Carlock

 

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If I Didn’t Have Strength If I didn’t have strength I’d get my lunch money stolen, Talked about, beat up, and judged. People say strength is the key to Success, but if you don’t have it What do you do? My suggestion Is to always keep your head up. Without strength your basically Just saying I can’t do it, I give up, It’s too hard, or I don’t have any friends. Now stop beating yourself up, Look in the mirror and say To yourself, I have strength and I could care less If nobody likes me. Also enjoy Life There’s plenty of time to be Dead.

Robert Brown 8th Grade CSLA Jane Varnell

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A Child’s Cry Down the river, once again. She says she’s leaving Down the river forever. But do you really believe such tales? For her words have no meaning. Surely she’ll stay Forever Hush, hush, now She won’t be gone for long; Hopefully She won’t stay down the river Forever Hush, hush, now. Ignore those voices Saying she’ll never come back. She won’t stay down the river Forever Hush, hush, now It’s been a while. Perhaps she is staying down the river Forever

Virginia Campbell 8th Grade Chattanooga High School Center for Creative Arts Sandra Howard

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School We sit in a room, That whispers doom. There’s posters everywhere, And large books here and there. We stay here all day, All the way until May. But then September comes, And we’re all dumb. We must get back, And get to work on that stack. Sometimes it’s not too bad, Is what I tell my dad. I work through it, Without having a fit. I work really hard. I’ve even earned a gift card. I get good grades, They’re all A’s. School is not all that bad, It makes me kind of glad.

Sydney Chandler 8th Grade Heritage Middle School Billie Carlock

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Procrastination Some say that I procrastinate, While I say that I take My time getting things done. My work is often turned in late, My teachers don’t like this horrendous habit, My grade is sorely suffering, they say, And my grand excuse no longer works, ‘Cause it’s kind of hard to feed my dead rabbit. It gives my mom a headache, The way I stay up at night, I often go to sleep at one, And then it’s hard to stay awake. My friends work I often borrow, So my grade is at least passing. You know, something has to change. Eh, I’ll start on it tomorrow.

Brian Duree 8th Grade CSLA Jane Varnell

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September Morning The debris falls everywhere, hard, skull crushing, pavement cracking, hard. The concrete blocks tumble from the heavens. The buildings I once gazed at in wonder, lay around me in ruins. I look down, my feet are moving. Strange, I think, I'm running. The blur that is my vision clears. My breath puffs out in short bursts. Sweat and blood swirl together dribbling down my cheek, rivulets of pain and agony. Half-moons of perspiration peek from behind my toned arms. Red, warm liquid splatters beneath the destruction and flows on the sidewalk. Limbs with no bodies litter the road. I pause, glance frantically at the sky. A shard of a concrete building plunges, thrown by God. I stand there, still, and I accept the impact.

Grace McKenney, 8th Grade Baylor School, Ms. Conway

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Intelligible Thoughts My thoughts are shattered Little bits scattered Like the stars in the sky Imperfect perfections In mirrors’ (un)wanted reflections Cause me to think... My thoughts are pondering Most likely wandering Like the river in the valley What was once thought to be fiction Is obviously now an infliction Of pain which makes me think... My thoughts are outlandish Occasionally just gibberish Like the hopelessly abstract theories in our minds In conclusion We are only human...

Jamie Pouncey 8th Grade Chattanooga School for the Arts and Sciences Kelly Davis

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In Winter In summer, I meet a mess of a boy who has bloodshot eyes and shaky hands. In autumn, I get to know a boy who has bags under his eye and stares at the ground more than he looks at me. In spring, I fall in love with a boy who laughs for too long at bad jokes and can’t look me in the eyes. In winter, I knew a boy who made my heart beat faster and I couldn’t tell him until his didn’t beat at all.

Sami Roberts 8th Graade Tennessee Christian Preparatory School Mrs. Marrie

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Overfishing One fish, two fish , red fish, blue fish When I order fish, I expect to get my wish. Yellow fin, swordfish, caviar, and more I don’t even care that the population is sore. But then one night as I ordered my fish I got something that I did not wish. I ordered the usual blue fin, catfish, and gar, But then the waiter said, “Whoa sir, you’ve gone too far.” I asked, “What’s the matter, has the chef stopped dishing?” “No, no,” the young man said, “It’s called overfishing.” “Look son,” I said, “I’ll pay the money, whatever the fee.” “I’m afraid, sir, that money isn’t the key.” “What we must do,” the young youth said, “Is educate the public, put the problem to bed.” “The public must put pressure on these large companies,” “to stop their unsustainable fishing activities.” “Then and only then will the fish come back,” “You’ll start to see them again on the rack” “If this happens, we could serve you catfish and gar” “We could serve fish from near and far” And as I drove home I thought about what the college kid preached, If we could do that, the problem would be beached. If that were accomplished, If not so much were fished. I could have my favorite fish dish, of red fish or blue fish in ones and twos, then is would be very hard to choose.

Alexander Tuttle 8th Grade Normal Park Museum Magnet Upper School Carrie Willmore

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[  9th  Grade  Prose  ]   A Man and the Sea

He took flight over the icy depths before him. The taste of salt was prominent on his dry lips, and the crisp air sent a shiver down his spine, and a quiver into his stomach. So long he has waited for this moment. So long he had been in the bowels of despair. Inch by inch he had clawed his way out of the dark, and onto the hot sand. The contradiction between the searing heat and the cool dark at his back caused him to pause for a moment and think. He much wanted to slip back into the quiet embrace of the dark; he found comfort there - a soft silence. But, this soft silence felt so wrong at the same time. It was morbidly horrible, but it was safe. No one could touch him there. No one could find him there.

But all the while, the sea had a gravity of its own that was quite appealing to the man. It was strong, dangerous even, but this strength was what the man longed for. The crushing waves called to him with promising whispers of what could be. New possibilities awaited him there. A new life it did hold. The dark that the man clung to was no match for the greatness and power of the sea. It was a fake beauty. It reminded the man of a china doll, with its beautiful painted face and porcelain skin. If one was to take away the paint, it would be a lifeless, faceless orb. If one was to drop the doll, it would shatter to a million pieces. No strength did it hold. Oh, but the sea! The sea could never break! The sea could never be stripped of its color! From this thought, the man made his decision. He would let go of his morbid reality, even if it took quite some time.

He took flight over the icy depths before him, and he was not afraid. The man never looked back, for his fear was gone. His dark tragedy was now a bright, new future.

Victoria Martin 9th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

 

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I’m Alone In A Room

I’m alone in a room, in the day at least. At night… at night it’s different. But during the day, or what I’m guessing is day, I’m just in a black room. No windows, no door, just a bed, and four walls staring at me every hour of my waking life. I’ve been in this room as long as I can remember, and if there was a time I was out of the room, I don’t recall it. I don’t know my name: or if I even had one. I’m not truly sure what I look like because there is no way to look at myself in the room. My skin is a pasty color so I guess I’m white, somewhat like the floor of the room. I can see a little of my hair, because it goes to the small of my back. It’s an odd golden brown color. I don’t know how I know what white is or what the color brown is because I’ve never been out of the room. I just do. Another odd phenomenon I find strange about the room are the voices I sometimes can hear. They don’t talk all the time but every so often, maybe a couple of days, or even a week, until they’ll speak again. I’ve also never actually seen the beings that emit these voices. All I know of them is what I hear. They whisper about me a lot too, saying I’m going to die, that they should just kill me. Like a never-ending barrage of hail they continue saying I’m never going to be the same and I’m ruining their life. They continue un-relentlessly back and forth until they reach a point of yelling saying, I’m just a mistake in life and have no purpose but to ruin the voice’s life…. But that doesn’t bother me. Because it’s just a voice saying lies. Voices don’t have lives to ruin. If they did I don’t know how I could ruin it. I’ve been in a room my whole life.

In the room there is a constant high pitched beep: one every five seconds, slow and relaxing. I sometimes almost fall asleep to it, but I catch myself when I’m about to give into the pleas of my body. Sleeping is bad, for I have a reoccurring nightmare; the same one over, and over. Although it brings back the same emotion every time; fear. Fear so overwhelming you can’t stand. All you can do is fall to the ground and cry hoping it’ll all end soon, knowing that there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. So at all cost I try my hardest not to sleep. Though like always my body breaks and gives into the waves of exhaustion, and terror envelopes me. It starts out with me surrounded by pitch-black nothing, I can’t even see my hands if I move them next to my face. There’s a light in the distant shadows of the realm. Small, so small you almost can’t see it, the dark almost looks like it’s trying to swallow the pitiful glow of light. I always start running towards it, because I’m running from something behind me and the light will make it go away. I never look behind me for fear of actually seeing the monstrous beast that peruses me. I can hear it running after me though. Thump, thump, thump, thump. Its heavy breathing, slowly getting closer and the footsteps getting faster. Right as I’m near the light, so close I could almost touch it, it grabs me by my hand, and pulls me back. Chuckling at its victory, it slams me to the ground and I wake up. And that’s what my dream is. Every night, never failing its arrival.

The voices today said they were going to kill me. End my life so they can stop suffering. I don’t understand this. How am I bothering them? I’m just in a room. I can’t let the voices bother me though, because they aren’t real, just voices. I walked outwards toward where I last heard the entities. I hear someone crying, which isn’t really new, but still I walk towards the soft sobbing, half expecting to phase through the wall, and be able to comfort the voice. With my hands extended I hit a wall, as expected. I then turn around and walk back to my bed, sitting there thinking about nothing, like I always do. Then

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something starts to bother me. What is it? Something’s missing… I stood and started pacing back and forth wringing my hands through my hair. What could it possibly be that’s causing me to be this worried? I froze finally noticing, the beep, the beep is gone. How is that possible… the beep is always there. And now it’s not. Is that why the voice was crying, because the beep is gone? Then I started to notice something else. The tips of my fingers and toes were starting to grow cold, my head got lighter and dizzy, I had to sit down to avoid falling. All of a sudden as I began to lose feeling in my feet, I passed out, and fell backwards onto the bed.

It’s a new dream. I know this because I’m not running, and I don’t hear the ragged breathing of the beast behind me. The light is much brighter, even hard to gaze at, though behind me it’s like the light’s not even there. It’s pure pitch black, like it’s somehow eating the light. I start walking towards the light ignoring the chill coming from behind me. I slowly start to feel the cold again. Not just normal cold but like my insides were slowly freezing and I started not being able to feel my body. Not caring, I still walked on.

As I got to the light, close enough to touch it, I didn’t know what to do. I looked behind me and it was like the dark had followed me. If I hadn’t started the dream looking at the light I wouldn’t have even noticed it. Looking back at the light I just starred at it. This is the only light I’ve seen since being in the room. It’s beautiful, perfect in some sense. What am I supposed to do? What is it possibly there for? Then I heard it; the breathing, the horrible, ragged breathing of it. Not far away like it always was, but right behind me. I could feel the air blowing against my neck. It was warm and smelled horrible, like its insides were rotting. It grabbed me by the hand, and slammed me on the ground. But I didn’t wake up. It continued to drag me away from the light slowly… the light started to fade. My eyes started to close as it continued to drag me away to whatever hell it came from. I couldn’t feel anything but its hand on my wrist, my entire body was numb. I closed my eyes for the last time and thought. “I should have touched the light.” Then I was gone. Mary sat by the hospital bed holding her now dead brother’s hand crying quietly to herself, with his beautiful golden brown hair flowing over the hospital’s bedside. Kyle, her husband, walked up behind and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mary… I’m sorry. We had to do it, and you know that.” He said. “We’re low enough on money as it is, and paying to keep life support on wasn’t helping. Think about the kids, and what we could have done with the money we wasted on keeping a dead man breathing. He’s been in that coma for four years. He wasn’t going to wake up.”

Christian M. McCreary 9th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

   

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[  9th  Grade  Poetry  ]   The Chair Sitting alone in the house Where no laughter was heard Or footsteps or crying Sat a well worn chair Faded and collecting dust The once vibrant red Now has dulled It shoulders now slump As if the burden of memories is too heavy For it to bear up Oh if only it could tell the stories Of how it watched the bombs fall Or how it was there when the child died Of how it supported the sick And was there when people needed it Of how it was the center piece of pictures And how people crowed around it To sit in loved one's laps Or to relax after a long day Or to play an instrument upon it Oh if it could only tell Of the sadness it has seen Or the joy it has witnessed The once red chair Sitting alone in the house

Sierra Beatty 9th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

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Falcon

Falcon, Falcon As swift as a falchion I wish I were more like you You have a beak, not any teeth Yet you’re more carnivorous than most You’re as fast as the wind, but I am not kenned to any of your features alike I couldn’t beat you even on my bike You have magnificent wings which makes you one of the kings Your screech sends shivers down everything’s back and it’s like a fierce war cry But unlike others it makes me sigh. Why am I not able to fly?

James Renegar 9th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Kyndall Squires

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[  10th  Grade  Prose  ]   The Scarlet Secret I walk down the street wanting something so bad, something so simple but I can't. I can't have it. Why? Because the Patrols won't allow it. The Patrols are too strict, they tell us what time to wake up, what time to sleep, what time to do anything. I suppose it's not their fault though, they get orders directly from the Queen herself. The Queen you ask? She's horrible; if I was to give one word to describe her it would be an evil self centered dramatic bossy pig-faced witch. Yeah, sorry didn't mean to get carried away. In all seriousness though, she's had about five husbands. When she gets tired with them most get beheaded, and the others are forced to leave the District. I hear that it's better away from the District though, living with freedom, being able to be free and do as you please. Here in the District of Riland we are taught that this is the world that everywhere else failed to continue living and existing. We are taught that because of war and grief and conflict all of mankind fell. The District was formed when everything failed and we are the only ones left. So I doubt that any life exist outside of the District, it’s a lot of false hope. The cold air is brittle, leaving red marks on my face and making all the hairs on my arm stand. The trees blow back and forth, the lake is frozen over from the winter air, and the electric fence guarding me, from all of the horrible things on the outside world, is buzzing. Back to what I was saying though, I want to be free, I want to live a life of my own and be able to explore the world. Just as I am turning the corner to get to my street, I see something flash before my eyes. I can't see, everything is bright, too bright! My visions blurry, I’m stumbling around trying to figure out what happened. There it is again! "Dang it! What the heck do you want?" Footsteps run away in the distance. Quickly I get back onto my feet and follow after whatever had just jumped me. When I stand I wince because the pain is unbearable. I look to see that me knee has been cut open, blood gushing out. I have to move. I have to move forward. I have to continue. What happened? Did I see anything weird? No I don't think I did. Who the heck just jumped me? When I look back up in see a dark figure run around the corner. The dark sky limiting my vision but I see him, just for a second I see his face...my brother, James. James...James? Why would James do this to me? I never really trusted him, he always seemed to get into trouble, get with the wrong crowds. What could he be up to, I must find out. All of a sudden I see something fly out in front of me and within the second it hits the ground I am blinded. Vision foggy, eyes burning.

"What do you want from me!?" I scream "Shut up...I'm trying to help you Scott!" A voice says from behind me. "Then why did you flash me?" "There's no time to explain you must come with me." The voice seems so

familiar, but at the same time it seems like I have never heard it before. "Who...who are you?" I say, whispering now. "I said there's no time to explain. Come with me Scott." Slowly I get up and when

I stand, I am face to face with her....the Queen.

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She's dressed in all black. She's looking like her true self...evil. I am told that I must come with her immediately, and because she is the Queen I must go with her. When we arrive at the palace I feel a sudden chill run up my spine. The feeling makes me shudder but I keep moving forward, not turning back, not going back, but moving forward. She takes me down into the cellars and into a room. A small table lies in the center with a chair on either side of the table, a mirror hanging on the wall. Why does this place look familiar...I've seen it before, many times on the television set in our living quarters. That's when I realize what it is...it's an interrogation room. I got to get out! I think but suddenly I am smacked from behind and shoved into the chair. I feel a jolt of pain shot through my veins as I am injected with a needle filled with blue liquid. Then I feel loose, relaxed and then the world goes black.

Riley Mattila 10th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Mrs. Sarah Johnson

 

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Essay on the life of a teenage girl

Being a teenage girl can be tough. From the daily struggle of what to wear, to worrying about your reputation, grades in school, that guy you like that never notices you, and those stuck up girls that look down on you and talk about you behind your back. It's hard work being me.

Sometimes I wonder why I even get out of bed in the morning. As soon as my feet hit the floor I have a million decisions to make. I never know what to wear or how to do my hair. My life is a constant battle of being completely in love with food and not wanting to get fat (My love for food usually wins so I just have to work out a lot).

I get to class and never know where to sit. It might sound silly, but when you're really shy, trying to find a seat in a classroom full of people can be the most terrifying moment of your day.

When class starts my crazy brain decides to focus on everything but what the teacher is saying. Suddenly I start to wonder what everyone would do if all the erasers in the room suddenly turned into dinosaurs, and why didn't God make trees turn purple in the fall? And then I realize that the teacher stopped talking and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. No one else seems to have that problem though. When I finally get home I just want to relax, so that's exactly what I do, after I change into my pajamas.

Music is my life, playing piano, guitar, writing songs, and just listening to music. I don't know what I would do without it. After pretending I'm a rock star in my bedroom, dancing around and singing into my hairbrush, I think about doing homework and decide to do it later.

At about 1:00 AM after I've written a few songs, had a few midnight snacks, and most of my friends have gone to bed and stopped texting me, I decide it might be a good idea to go to sleep, but I'm not quite sure.

By the time I make up my mind it's too late, I'm going to get less than five hours of sleep. Maria Rivera 10th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelly George  

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The Darkness

Darkness. Darkness covers the night as she leaves the train station. As breath comes out of her mouth trembling. You can only see the train lights and only a few street lights. She steps off the train slowly, looking both ways. No one else is getting off, just her. She goes and gets her luggage and beings to walk down the road. She breathes hot air in her hands. As she’s walking down the road she hears a crow. She pays no mind to it. Then she hears footsteps coming behind her. She looks back, but no one is there. She continues to walk faster. When she is walking she hears heavy breathing as if they have been running for a while. She looks back again, but no one is there. She yells, “Hello, hello is anyone there?” she can only hear the sound of crickets. She then looks at her feet, but there is too much fog covering the ground. As she passes the bridge over the pound she stops to catch her breath. The frogs begin to croak. Louder and louder they get. As they croak they say, “Run.” She yells quietly and begins to look back behind her, but can’t see anything. She then begins to run, but she hears painting coming from behind her. She doesn’t turn around this time. She begins to sprint, but it seems as if someone is sprinting behind her. She turns into the woods trying to loose whoever is behind her. She finds a tree and hides behind it to catch her breath. She begins to run. She is almost out of the woods, but she trips on a tree branch and falls. She hears whispers coming about. Coming from everywhere. She sees a shadow approaching her, but she is able to get up and run. She gets out of the woods and looks behind her to make sure they’re not following her. She yells, “Help! Help! Something is trying to kill me. Anyone please!” No answer. She keeps running she finds an abandoned house and goes in it. Then she hears the crow again. Then there’s a knock on the door. She is too frightened to answer it. Then the door is suddenly knocked down. As the shadows approach her, she cries for mercy, but the shadows don’t say anything. They get closer and closer to her. She noticed that their hands are claws. The shadow rises up its hand to strike. At this moment she wonders why this is happening to her. What did she do to deserve this? She then puts her arms over her face. Then suddenly she opens her eyes and she is in her seat on the train. She says, “Oh it was only a dream.” Then she hears the crow.

Sydney Shepherd 10th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

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Anteviare

When a child is born in Potestas ob Cruciatus it is to be reported to the local government officials. The Auxilium forces will be dispatched to retrieve the child. Deadly force is authorized in case of resistance. Each child will be carefully observed, studied, and evaluated for a minimum two year term. Based upon their physical and mental capabilities, they shall either be assigned a lifelong career that they shall begin at the age of 16 or they will be discarded if unnecessary or not useful. Only children of government officials and other government employees shall be exempt.

-Edict of Cruciatus Before us. Before us there was a world that we cannot imagine, a world where people could work together to make things better, and a world where people had rights. It is also a world that I will never see. We are taught about them in our schooling, but we are told that we are better, smarter, and more advanced than them. We are taught that creativity and imagination were once free, but now freedom is condemned. Freedom is seen as a threat to those in power. The world I live in is not like the one I read about. That old world, however imperfect it must have been, provides for me a sense of hope that I cannot find elsewhere. As I enter the market I cannot help but wonder why not a single person here cares? How can they not care about our marvelous past? How much better it was even at its worse than our present could ever hope to be at its best. I can't help but think of my mother. She always told me "the past is in the past, look to the future" but I cannot. I have no future. I have no family except for my brother and my sister. Mitchell is my brother. He is tall and athletic like our father but he thinks with the same naïveté as our mother. My sisters' name is Joan. She looks so similar to our mother that sometimes I call her mother by accident. I do love them; however, they do not see the faults of this world. I only wish that they would see the world in the way that I do, in the way that it really is. "Give me a hand will you!" Her voice echoed her selfish and impatient personality but also a hint of something else. I recognize the voice belongs to my sister immediately. She wasn't always so full of hatred. Before our parents' death, she was my best friend and the nicest person I knew, or maybe that's just how I wish to remember her. I am thankful for her though. She sells fruit in the town market which provides almost half of our income. She is a hard worker, but she is cynical. She keeps most of her money for herself because she believes that she is the only one who deserves it. Regardless of how despicable she really is, I still love her. I'm not sure, however, if I love her because she is my sister and I once looked up to her, or if I love her because of how much she resembles my mother. Just before I can reply, a far too familiar sound invades my ears. It is not the sound but what succeeded it that makes me lose my grip on reality. In a daze I must have run to the origin of the sound because I am gasping for air when my eyes meet those of my sister. It is not until I see the blood on her coat that I realize what has happened. Joan has been shot. She looks as lifeless and hateful as ever. "Dead" is the only word I hear as I stand over Joan's body. All other words are filtered by my mind as unimportant. I am confused. Sure she's a jerk, but who would kill her? I lose control. I don't know how

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many people I injure before the Auxilium guards slam me on the ground. The sight of the Auxiliums only heightens my anger. A memory that I have hidden from myself resurfaces. Responsible for the death of my parents are the Auxiliums. They are the combined police and military forces of Potestas ob Cruciatus. Visions of my parents flash through my mind as they try to detain me. My parents were lawyers. A worthless job in a time of public executions without trials and a government who can do whatever they want. There is a court; however, the cases are usually pointless. My parents believed in fighting for what they believed in and so do I. I hear my brother screaming, "You have to stop fighting!" His words sting. How can he say that? He's the only friend I have left and he wants me to just give in to the people who murdered our parents. "Give me one reason why I should!" These are the only words I can put together before I watch a bullet sail into my brother’s chest. I cannot tell where it comes from but it doesn't matter. I'll never know why they killed my sister. I'll never know why they shot my brother instead of me. What I do know is that I have no family and I am alone. It is said that we are still the same as those before us, but I do not think that we are. How can we be? We are dark. We are sinister. We are monstrous. We are atrocious. Not all of us though, I like to think of myself as different, but I know that I am not. In the end are all just expendable and exploitable players in this ruthless game of chance that is called life. All of us.

Caleb Woodall 10th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Mrs. Johnson

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[  10th  Grade  Poetry  ]   Life Life is a four-letter word. Simple, small, absurd It can cause sorrow It can cause pain. It can cause laughter. It can cause gain. It's not promised to be long But knowing that we should live everyday strong. Life is a blessing. There is a time for work and there is a time for resting. Take hold of the simple things in life. Don't walk through everyday in strife. With this gift there is love and hate. With this gift there is stop and wait. Stop and love the simple things. Wait to hate the little things. Life is a four-letter word. Small, simple, absurd

Gabby McDonald 10th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Mrs. Johnson

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Waldeinsamkeit

Not all who wander are lost. Not all who are alone are lonely. But these dark woods, Knotty roots reaching for my leg- Twisting, turning, grabbing- It’s hard not to feel lost. The shuffle of uncertain feet, The crunch of forgotten leaves. The tree branches, twigs stretched out like grasping fingers, Are the only hands I can hold. It’s hard not to feel lonely. The howling wind, Clothes that cling to contours. In the woods I feel alone, Isolated. Lost.

Hannah Nelson 10the Grade Chattanooga High Center for Creative Arts Meri Sowders

The Monster Shhh…The monster’s sleeping inside all our souls. Take care to watch for peeking- Make sure both eyes stay closed. For what it takes to wake it is indeed quite small. Just a CRASH! A BANG! A BOOM! and it wakes to tear us all. So make sure when you’re wand’ring on to tread a quiet trail, lest you force some weary soul to drag along its tail.

Cooper Sylar 10th grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Mrs. Johnson

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I Am I am from beautiful, carved sculptures From makeup and jewelry I am from the luxurious rooms and spacious bathrooms And the feeling of relaxation I am from the rose, The bushes whose long gone limbs I remember As if they were my own. I’m from special gatherings, and good music From Dana Mcintyre and Terrence Mcintyre, I’m from glorious eating, laughter And from having a great time. I’m from gorgeous and humble And Poetic Justice, I’m from outings From Parkridge and African ancestry, Chicken and Jiffy Cornbread, From discrimination of others because of my tinted, ethnic skin From pretty eyes, and full figured I’m from once in a lifetime memories, and unforgettable moments That I will forever carry with me wherever I go.

Mya Thompson 10th Grade Chattanooga High School Center for Creative Arts Meri Sowders

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The Stage A dark stage, Nothing I walk in, Nothing. Click, a circle of light. Something. Alone in the spotlight, I stand, I speak, I sing. Something, Something has begun. A dream, a passion A beguiling path I can't help but follow. It intrigues me, I will never leave, Something has begun I am home.

Genna Williams, 10th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Mrs. Johnson

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[  11th  Grade  Poetry  ]   Dirty Paws Winter came, and it brought with it the Soul of a stumbling dragonfly. The cold breezes carried it And the leaves ran With the wind, somewhere far away The distance they traveled should have been far enough, but They could not escape the fiery heat it Brought. Spring came Stronger than ever, it came back It came back with More power than a Powerful fairy tale story Then the leaves were brought to Their end, without another word to say

Chloe Aslinger 11th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Taryn Humphries

Where I'm from I'm from Chattanooga, Tennessee Where the tea is sweeter than most the people I'm from a big family That doesn't always get along I'm from a small school Where there's more gossip than there are kids I'm from a big church Full of songs and prayers I'm from lazy Saturdays Where I'm worry free

Tori Ballard 11th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Mrs. Humphries

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Ode to Whirlpool Long I have waited for it So long it felt like an eternity When it grew cold my hands became cracked When it grew colder my hands became broken When it grew colder still my hands started to bleed Because of the liquid in which they were submerged But it came It spared the glass from breaking It spared the cups from chipping It spared the silver from clanking For long I thought of quitting But it came A miracle came Yes miracles do come in the form of dishwashers

Samuel Huston 11th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

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Biography of Jeffrey Hollis Fleischmann Jeffrey eats jars of peanut butter. He is Easygoing and Friends with everyone. Jeffrey is Funny, ha, ha Rich in joy, Excited and electric. He says that it is important to treat others as well as you treat Yourself. Jeffrey is Helpful not helpless, Opinionated, open and open-minded. He Loves long naps and Looks good in glasses. Jeffrey says that I am a Christian, a Southern writer and a Seahawk. Jeffrey also says that F is my grade in Algebra II- Like a dodo galloping through the field. He is an Elephant lover and says that I’m a pepper, Dr. Pepper and that So many words won’t describe me. Jeffrey says that he’s Crazy but lovable and Human, I think. Jeffrey says, “Man, are we there yet?” and reminds himself to “Always love a good tater tot.” With Jeffrey, there are No strings attached. For Jeffrey, this is Not the end.

Jeffrey Fleischmann 11th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Taryn Humphries

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Season of Fire A gentle wind passing stirs the dust on the ground And whispers of hope in this dying summer town. The forest is carpeted in golden and brown. At last, fall’s flames aspire. Summer has left my hopeless heart hollow. Persistent recollections of desolation and sorrow Blind my dreams of a better tomorrow, Or is it these tears I weep all the while? Autumn, she comes, and with little expectation Giving a weak spirit no condemnation But the wanting for something more than desperation Burns red as the darkest desire. The flaming trees laugh in the presence of the sun. The clenched fists of malice are slowly undone. With the wind on my back, I feel I have won, But nearby, winter’s envy compiles. Winter whisks in as autumn resigns. His cold breath sends shivers down my disfigured spine. A fool I was to think there was time To revel in this season of fire.

Nina Kerr 11th Grade Center for Creative Arts Meri Sowders

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Born Again A cloud of dust On a desert road; A thunderous roar, Both fierce and bold. Rubber down, Chrome hearts beating; Wrapped exhaust pipes, Slashed and bleeding. Rolling high, With eagle’s feathers; Beneath the sun, But clad in leather. Painted flames, Tattooed skin, And grease-stained fingers Mark our kin. On cast-iron horses, Pursued by sin; We’re wild-west outlaws, Born again.

Jared Steiman 11th Grade Chattanooga High Center for Creative Arts Meri Sowders

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[  12th  Grade  Prose  ]   A Day in the Life of Lise Meitner “Lise Meitner! Don’t ever sow on the Sabbath.” My grandmother told me. I looked down at my embroidery and asked,

“Why?” My grandmother replied, “Because if you sow on the Sabbath, then God will be very angry at you and he

will make the heavens come tumbling down.” I looked at her and tried to figure out if she was telling the truth. Before I could

further inquire my mother came out and told me, “Lise come and help me prepare dinner for tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said as I followed her to the kitchen. We were Jews, and although we did not really follow the Jewish traditions, we

tried to keep the Sabbath holy. So we had to cook the food for the Sabbath the day before. We made enough dinner for that night and the Sabbath. When we were finished I went to practice the piano with my older Sister, Gusti. She is an incredible musician and although I take lessons from a teacher, my sister is always there to help me develop my skills. At first I listen to her play and think of my beloved city of Vienna, the city where everyone loves music, the city that attracts people of all raises because of the religious freedom and the great opportunity to have a future. The music stops and Gusti looks at me and says,

“Your turn, Lise.”

I stretch out my fingers and attentively begin to play. Although I have confidence

in my ability to play, I am always nervous when I play in front of Gusti. Because my sister is the best piano player out of all the kids I have ever heard. However, as I start to feel the music, my carefulness dies away. The lovely sound of the music engulfs all else. When I play there is a pride in me, a pride that I can make a piano come to life. Even if I am nowhere near as good at playing as Gusti. When I am finished, Gusti smiled and clapped, but then she went on to tell me what parts I messed up and how I can approve. I tried again and did much better. Then I thank her and we go to the dinner table.

“How was your day at work, Phillip?” My mother asked my father. My Father smiled, looked at everyone at the table, and said,

“Work was just like work always is politics and more politics. The judge was an anti-Jew though, so I think I lost the case.”

“That is so unfair! Why do they judge you for something you cannot control? You

did not decide to be born a Jew!” proclaimed my younger sister, Lola with tears in her eyes.” My father smiled at her and replied,

“Dear Lola, do not be troubled so by something that cannot be helped. I am very lucky to be able to be a Jew and a Lawyer.”

I smile at the tenderness of my five year old sister. She has a strict sense of

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fairness, and is horribly upset when someone or something is unfair. She has not yet learned that life, especially for a Jew, is nowhere near fair. My father was one of the first Jews who were allowed to study law and then to practice it. Although there are cases when people are prejudice against my father being a Jew, we are all proud of how successful he has become, for he is a great Lawyer and has been able to make friends who hold much power. We finished eating, cleaned up, and went to bed. When I woke up Sabbath morning, I thought back to what my grandmother told me about sowing on the Sabbath. I didn’t really believe her so I decided to test it out. I went outside and hid from view. I pulled out the embroidery and examined it. It had a sky itched on the top with flowers on green grass. I looked at the real sky and silently uttered a prayer that it would not crash down on me. Then I ever so carefully stick the needle in my embroidery. With anxiety I glanced quickly at the sky. I let out a sigh of relief when I realized that nothing happened. I slowly made one stitch while I glanced at the sky, and secretly hoped that the sky would not fall down on me. However, when I made the stitch nothing happened. I smiled a wicked smile and continued stitching, assuring myself that I had never believed my grandmother anyway.

Bethany Contarino 12th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

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[  12th  Grade  Poetry  ]   So They Say Thinking back to a time long, long ago Back to when I was just a child, I never thought so far ahead, I’m older but not older in my head They say that I’m almost out of time, I had better figure out my life, Before I miss my chance and die away, And if I’m alone I’ll be empty, I need to settle down with a family, Or my life will be pointless, they say Back and forth, decisions, decisions, in good time must be made, I’m caught up in this light-out wanderlust, And when it comes time to say goodbye, Will I be ready to move away? They say the road cuts off ahead, I’m better sleeping in my bed, For society and propriety are the same, I feel I’m meant for more than pointless queue, I shouldn’t listen to your point of view, “Someday your mind will change,” they say

Rebekah Davis 12th Grade Hilger Higher Learning Shelley George

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Whose Fault Is It? The human’s world seems spinning, constantly tossing and turning The desire to live for so much more, but we keep this same face every time we walk in the door. A whole life lived out failing, and filled with never-ending yearning. We crave the wind beneath our wings, allowing our hearts to soar. But something seems to be missing, my attitude doesn’t feel fit I have lost all my ambition, so who’s fault is it? Our minds are conditioned by rules and principles. Our thoughts are oppressed by seemingly mindless individuals. Can one spirit not break free from this trapped pool of souls? Can the mind not free itself from these haunting visuals? My greatest fear is living a life of regret, pulling me further in this dreadful pit. Can a leader in me not rise out of the ashes, if I am not ready for it, then, whose fault is it? Wondering where this winding trail leads, but growing in character like towering trees. If money and greed is the downfall of man, Then shouldn’t we worry about more important tasks at hand? Never fearing to step-up to the plate, Trusting that I will not lose my faith, But if I fall, because I had no help, Rock bottom I have hit, now tell me whose fault is it?

Brandon Land 12th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Taryn Humphries

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That Drive On I-75 That Drive on I-75 is a great highlight of my childhood, From Braves games to Florida trips, the road just makes me feel alive. This long road begins right down the street from my neighborhood, Times spent with family, especially my dad, happened on this drive. It’s long straightaways and small towns populate this road widely taken, Through these small towns is a town called Atlanta, If you go a little farther, you hit the town of Macon. Along this road, you travel in packs, with people you don’t know, In the big cities like Knoxville and Atlanta, things slow down, and affect the traffic flow From those growing trees, to the small towns, I’m blessed to be alive And I realized this on that drive on I-75

Logan Melton 12th Grade Silverdale Baptist Academy Taryn Humphries