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CHAPTER TWO
BY KAYLA MCARTOR
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Lazuka sensed the presence of the silent
magicians sprinting through the shadows at
her heels. Her white, tapered ears homed in on
the sound of silent footsteps 20 yards behind
her, with many turns and walls between them.
Her golden eyes stood out in sharp relief
against the shadows, her thick, ebony mane of
hair drawn back from them by the wind.
The demons pale face glowed in the blackness of the citys moon-cast shadows, flesh
turning gray at her shoulders and darkening
to black at her lower back and legs. There,
the air seemed darker, her body reflecting
darkness itself. This trait was the only way
one could distinguish her thin, whip-like tail
streaming out behind her, adjusting itself automatically so the fan-shaped spade on the tip
caught the wind and allowed Lazuka to make
hairpin turns.
Obsidian claws grew sharply from her
hands, and now she clenched them in spite of
pumping her arms in perfect rhythm with her
nearly feral stride. She was in her humanoid
form; every demon had both a human and
monstrous form, though most could pull off a
perfect human. Lazuka had too much demonic
power to conceal such traits as a tail, fangs,
claws, and wings.
She cursed for the three-million-one-hundred-and-sixth time the birth of such ghastly
and wretched beings as magicians; the childkillers and enslavers of demons as they were.
Especially the combat-trained and government
controlled Nem. The ones hunting her wished
to incapacitate her and force Lazuka to make
a binding contract with, in her case, several
of them, giving the magic-users full use of
her powers and enhancing their own spiritual
strength. Or, if they were weak, exorcise her
and be done with it.
At all times, Lazuka had her demonic aura
extended in a thin veil over almost the entire
city on alert for Nem; now she focused in on
the disturbances ahead of her.
Another smaller group of Nem was pursuing two human beings that were exceptionally good at masking their presence, on both
a physical and spiritual level. In any case,
her goal was to force the group behind her to
join the chase of the other non-demons, who
were undoubtedly criminals that the government wanted dead, versus an innocent demon
sought after for personal gain.
Someones about to get hurt.
Lazuka glanced overhead at the angelic figure gliding on her soft, feathered gray wings
above her.
Who, Dusk? Speak louder, I cant hear
you as well when Im running, Lazuka managed to say between shallow breaths.
Her clawed feet gripped the filthy cobbles
under them, working with her large, strong
heart and lungs to keep her flying along at
speeds of over 60 miles an hour. She could go
faster, had she unfurled her bat-like wings and
took to the air. However, she needed to keep
to the maze of buildings if she were to lose the
Nem after her and Dusk.
A Nem, came the soft, melodious call
from Dusk.
Lazuka snorted. Good. Fatal? During the
pause that ensued, a whole zagged block of
triangular buildings zipped by. Not for the first
time, Lazuka felt envious of Dusks smaller
wingspan and greater flexibility that allowed
her to fly nearly sideways through alleys when
the buildings grew too high to skim over.
I ... dont think so.
Lazuka winced. Not because the magician
still lived, but because the pain in Dusks
whisper was blatant. She was not a demon
like Lazuka, she had simply woken up from a
deep sleep five years ago with no memory of
JANES TRUST
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City of Legend
CHAPTER ONE
BY KAYLA MCARTOR
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Seven black-clad men stood silently in
the moonlight, their bodies creating a circle
around an intricate pentacle engraved in the
copper road upon which they stood. They
were magicians, every one battered and desperate.
Gunshots rang out, the sounds reverberating through the iron walls of the city around
them. They were the few who remained, unmoving, while war was waged around them,
demons roaring, magicians shouting, countless innocents dying, caught in the crossfire.
Peace needed to be restored, else the city of
clockwork would tear itself apart.
The gathered magicians spread their arms
out, each barely brushing the palm of the adjacent men; a completed circuit, their energy
would combine and flow together as one.
Their one soul would reach into the ether
and summon an entity to end the violence an
angel whose overwhelming power of light
would quench the demons spirits and heal the
humans hate.
Once bound to the city itself, its energy
would flow into all things alive inside its
walls.
Three of the seven men, however, had
black, evil taints in their souls. They felt an
angel would not suffice, no matter the entitys
power.
They would summon a demon, one that
would, once bound inside the city walls,
systematically destroy every living being and
thus prevent the war from spreading.
They would feed upon the power of the
others gathered, and divert the summoning
when their minds were too caught up in the
single entity of their power to notice such a
change.
Only one individual was wise enough to
perceive these flawed intentions when the
chanting began, the thread that would weave
the spell for good or ill.
The words of the man beside him, with
whom his own energy was shared, differed
from his own, uttering something with precious little difference that would end up with
disastrously opposite results.
Intent on stopping whatever they had
planned, the fourth began weaving a spell that
would counteract the demons summoning.
But it was not to be completed.
Before he could completely abolish the evil
summoning, the other six, three misguided
and three oblivious and powerless against
them, entered the final stage of summoning.
With a blinding flash, white and black energy swirled in a column condensed within the
pentacle. Wretched wails and shrieks sounded
from the two entities within; the fourth had
hastened with his spell, and, unable to prevent
the demons summoning, made it so both were
summoned simultaneously.
Panicked and unable to restrain the opposing energies, the seven were forced to
complete the spell and seal both ancient spirits
within the city.
With a final cry from the men, the swirling
spirit energy within the pentacle dissipated
barely overpowered and all was silenced,
including the sounds of violence within the
city. For a moment, those who had sought to
summon the angel rejoiced at their victory.
Because they had the fourth on their side, they
believed their angel would soon overpower
them with four summoners as a catalyst for its
power versus the three of the demon and assume control of the city. Alas, it was not so.
The fourth had simply impeded the demons summoning so it did not cancel the
angels; he was not lending his power to either
of the individual spells.
(continued next column)
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THE VOICE
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Dear parents
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Encountering Cupid
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I saw him once.
Sitting up on the skyscraper,
preying on people with his
heart-tipped arrows.
The small wings on his back
were covered with slick, musty, yellow feathers,
and he was only wearing
a cloth diaper from the 1960s.
I could never forget his face:
young, bright, childish.
The blonde curls
camouflaged his eyes.
Every arrow that was shot
had been accompanied by
a giggle and three knee slaps.
Sometimes he would miss.
Sometimes he would hit
the man or woman straight
through the left ventricle.
(continued)
Joe: Really?
Bob: Really.
Joe: Then I accept your challenge.
Three hours later ...
Bob and Joe return to Joes house.
Joe: Ready?
Bob: Ready.
Joe: Go!
Bob runs and Joe drives. Predictably, Joe
wins by a lot.
Joe: I win! Now you owe me a hundred
bucks!
Bob: Oh, no, I dont. See, I said I could run
faster than your car. And your car didnt run,
it drove.
He reached for
another arrow, as if hunting
a wild boar.
Bob quickly runs over to the box, dumps everything out of it, and easily carries the empty
box into the car before Joe gets to five.
If only love
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
His sweaty palms.
Her messy hair.
Neither even dared
to sneak a smile
It was love,
but they didnt know
as they both stood cold as snow.
It was dark
in that park
where the two stood apart
and the sun didnt exist
under the thick mist.
They were human, separately,
but perfect together.
And there they stood through the weather.
Maybe in the end it wasnt love.
Maybe it wasnt even real.
But they knew what I know.
We all know how they feel,
trapped in forbidden thoughts,
watching their every move,
hoping he or she will come closer.
With his glowing eyes
and her misshaped freckles,
there was something like magic.
If only they had noticed;
if only they had found it.
THE VOICE
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To myself
BY SOPHIA CANNIZZARO
Grade 9, Homeschool, West Glover
Because I love you,
this is me telling you:
I am listening.
When nobody seems to be paying attention,
I am listening.
Finish that long, hilarious story about your
band teacher.
I wont sigh, or ignore you.
Wonder out loud about what his stomach
looks like.
I wont call you shallow.
Tell me all about how frustrating it can be to
analyze Bach chorales.
I wont act like its pointless.
Complain about how much you hate your
chin.
I wont tell you that you cant hate your chin
just because I like it.
I will listen to you rant about how annoying
your boobs are.
I wont tell you that youre lucky to have
them, that Im jealous.
THE VOICE
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BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
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A parking issue
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
An injustice I have witnessed is one at
school among students.
It has come to my attention that there is no
student parking lot whatsoever.
Yet there is not just one but three designated areas for teachers to park.
Hmm ... I nd this odd because although
the school promotes safety, it puts its own
students at risk every day.
Hundreds of kids park along the sides of
streets, and in little nooks along the roads
because there is no student parking lot.
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DONT MISS
YWPS FINAL POETRY SLAM
OF THE YEAR!
YWP HEADQUARTERS
47 MAPLE ST.
BURLINGTON
THURSDAY, MAY 14 AT 6 P.M.
FREE PIZZA | FREE POETRY
BY ADSEL SPARROW
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
I back away,
the exhilaration gone.
No, not me.
Not now.
I have a life.
Im not ready.
Theyre not ready.
I turn away,
my back now facing the ball of light.
The warmth recedes,
bringing back the cold.
But this time,
it feels warm.
Because standing is warm.
Laughing is warm.
Love is warm.
Life is warm.
And I want to live.
Between
I feel the cold,
the shivering cold.
Then,
then comes the warmth
and the light,
slowly moving toward me.
I feel joyful,
gleeful even,
and a longing
a longing to leap into this light,
this warmth,
with my arms stretched out in welcome.
I laugh,
then remember.
Nonsense conversation
BY THOMAS CUDDY
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
Characters: Guy # 1 (G1) & Guy # 2 (G2)
G1: Hello, Ralph! Its great to see you again!
G2: Only if my house were to fall down again.
G1: I cant, I left my doughnut at home.
G2: Probably not.
G1: Yes, I agree. Its not fair.
G2: Q! Q! Q!
G1: Yes, but you see, dragons didnt build my
car.
G2: Sometimes, but unfortunately, R is the
18th letter of the alphabet.
G1: Well, yes, until I nd a new cardboard
box.
G2: But radioactive marshmallows arent evil,
are they?
G1: 57.
G2: That sounds wonderful!
G1: Then why did you put pickles in the
washing machine?
G2: Because Groptvinorxable isnt a word.
G1: But I dont have a green stick in my
pocket!
G2: Thats because its triangular.
G1: Oh, yes, youre rightit must be the trash
cans fault.
G2: No I didnt!
NEXT PROMPTS
BY ADSEL SPARROW
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
My angel
I saw her standing there
with her ashy hair.
I saw her with those huge brown eyes,
with her baby face unable to cry.
I saw her break, bruise,
and become faded, defused.
I saw an angel made of status
come tumbling down, crashing.
I saw her broken heart and tempted mind,
how she accused herself of innocent crime.
Have you ever seen a human be so lost but so
known;
praised but abused on a torturous throne?
I saw one, her, my transparent angel.
Her screams tangled
in mishapened hate.
I saw a girl who just didnt know
who to be, how to act.
A 15-year-old who is painted black,
glazed with lies and disgust.
...I saw her standing there,
all alone, desperately needing repairs.
I saw my angel.
And how beautiful she was.
Inspirations
BY ROSIE BIBONA
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
THE VOICE
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NEXT PROMPTS
Scar. Write about a scar you have, literal or gurative. Tell the story; Alternates: Zombies. Scary? Misunderstood? Give us your best story about the undead; or Between. You
meet a man who says he is between life and the afterlife, suspended in a holding place until
he gets sorted out. Who is he and what does he tell you?; or Espionage. Write about the
CIAs newest spy, whos incredibly bad at his job. Due April 24
Happening. Write a poem or story with a rst line of, I didnt know what was happening at the time Alternates: Stranger. You know that person you always see on the bus,
on the way to school, or just around town. Youre curious -- who is this person? Write his
or her story as if you have followed the person home, to school or work, on errands, wherever. What do you discover? and Photo 9 (see youngwritersproject.org/prompts14-15).
Due May 1
Positive thinking
BY COLE GRATTON
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Life is about trial and error.
You learn from your mistakes and never
give up.
Sometimes things get hard in life, but its
always important to keep your head up.
Stay on the bright side of things because no
matter what happens, everything will be OK
in the end.
A good goal in life is to help others when
you see they are in need of help. Try to put a
smile on their faces and let them know youre
always there to help.
Never be scared to ask for help. It will only
make things better. Look at it as a learning
experience.
YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
BY HOPE UNDERWOOD
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Once again, I was long forgotten.
Stressed, depressed and a lonely mess.
She was alone; he was lonely.
Teach me how to love myself.
Make her smile when nobody can.
Loving herself was the rst step.
They had something in common: fear.
Adventures at 3
BY TANNER CIOFFI
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
As a child I was very active, always on the
move. It was my third year in this world, and I
was becoming independent.
One afternoon, sometime in the summer, I
was running around the house tormenting everyone as usual. I set up a chair by one of the
big bay windows that look into our backyard.
I wanted to locate my father who was outside
doing yard work. I wanted to lend him my
tiny hands with whatever help I could.
BY GABBI WARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
BY OLIVIA CHRISTIE
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
A little, chubby girl
clutches a neon pink Frisbee.
Shes alone,
in light-up sneakers and overalls.
She throws the Frisbee.
It soars.
She squints into the sun
and chases her prize.
Frisbee is normally a two-person game,
but not for her.
She stretches, reaches,
pines for the disc between her grubby paws.
She tumbles into the sharp gravel.
The Frisbee skitters to the ground, feet away,
lost.
This is the birth of the scar,
pink and jagged along the top of her knee,
an homage
to a solitary childhood.
Six-word stories
Presented by Vermontivate!,
Vermont Energy Education Program
& Young Writers Project
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Isnt it strange that people think the world
owes them something
like the earth and sky should be bowing at our
tiny feet?
The truth is the world does not owe us anything at all.
Its our job to make good choices and stand
tall.
Asking a huge void to answer our complaints
is pointless.
And Im sorry if youve never been told this,
but you dont deserve anything; you can
hope to be blessed
and not have overwhelming stress.
But your life, and your idea of repayment is
completely wrong.
The world and everything in it owes nothing
to our polluted bodies.
We owe it our gratitude and hopeless smiles.
The fact that we see the world as our worshipper is weird,
especially when we are inhabiting its surface,
not the other way around.
I simply point out that we owe it our breath,
even if it means receiving nothing in return ...
Spring fever
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I sit solemnly dipping my tiny toes into the
stream.
The just-thawed water swirls with steam
as my hot esh enters its kingdom.
My thick hair knotted up in a pink ribbon
whistles
as the sky clears and sizzles
with feathers and heat.
Its just cold enough to see my breath
and to not feel the death
of Father Winter.
My eyes become thin splinters
as a buttery not yet given color ies by.
It stares at me and my now purple feet and
goose bumped arms.
I think about taking my water colors to its
white wings,
to see what design I can bring
to this baby butterys world.
I lose comfort in myself, and decide to lie
back in the muddy leaves.
But thats when I sneeze.
I knew it was coming,
the season of hope that shines sunny,
when hibernation ends
and all the furry friends
come running.
The scenery becomes stunning
and the world has peace.
Spring is near.
I smell and can hear
its coming.
I close my eyes and smile because the time
has come
when I can dip my feet in the stream without
them becoming numb.
Spring is setting in.
And Im ready, so, so ready!
THE VOICE
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A day as a lion
We need to go outside
BY JORDAN BOURDEAU
Grade 6, Swanton Central School
BY HAILEY SAVAGE
Grade 7, St. Albans City School
Six-word stories
BY ADIANNA ADAMS
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Was the wait worth the trouble?
Stop holding back; let it go.
Travel, eat, sleep; do it again.
My mother is my whole world.
Mud season is here; lets celebrate.
BY BAILEY BROWN
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
He took off, sprinting through crowds.
Crying, they fell into the darkness.
Happiness ows. Snow thaws. Its spring.
If I was an animal...
From students at Bellows Free Academy St.
Albans
I have decided to become a toucan. My
friends tell me they hate birds, but I dont. I
think they are magical creatures that have the
ability to y around and observe. They are the
watch-tower guards of the animal kingdom.
LAURA DEMARSE
I would be an elephant because they display purity and peace and they have amazing,
beautiful trunks.
SIERRA ROSE
Id want to be a lowland gorilla. Gorillas
are a non-aggressive herbivore that rarely
attack other animals, unless threatened. Id
change that. Gorillas are said to be over
32 times stronger than the average human
male. If I were a gorilla for a day, Id use my
extreme strength to battle the alpha predators
of the local jungle and create a small kingdom
for myself and my band of gorillas. Id try to
teach them to be a strong existing species.
GARRETT LAMOTHE
Snowsports at school
BY JACOB DESO
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I wish my school promoted skiing and
snowboarding more. The teams of these
sports dont receive as much recognition as
other teams. The two sports are important
to Vermont culture and tourism. The resorts
designed around the sports provide thousands
of jobs in Vermont.
I love skiing, being outside, constantly feeling so good. The views at the mountain are
amazing. The relaxation when youre at the
mountain is a great feeling. The sports should
be promoted for the good of Vermont and my
school.
Career help
BY MATT FOSS
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I think the school should help more with
careers. I thought I knew what I wanted to do,
but I dont. I also think there should be teams
for kids who dont play as well but want to
play. That way, its a chance for kids that
maybe want to try a sport, but cant because
they didnt make the team.
Skittles
BY KARA FIARKOSKI
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Have you ever felt like a Skittle
hidden in a bowl of M&Ms,
and never quite tting in?
On the outside you do,
but the second people open you up,
they realize youre not so smooth and sweet;
they realize youre not what theyre looking
for.
Have you ever wished you were a snake
so you could slither out of your skin
thats so constricting,
to be able to breathe as yourself,
to feel free and alive?
Have you ever wanted to breathe
and chase the air that leaves your mouth
as far as you can run
because the body youre in doesnt get enough
oxygen,
and you just want to oat away?
Have you ever had the desire
to stand on top of a mountain
and scream out words
that have ignited themselves on re in you,
and youre trying desperately to douse the
ame?
Whether someone is listening or not,
you need to remember
that, maybe,
somebody likes Skittles best.
BY CALEB WILLS
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Spiral staircase
BY ADSEL SPARROW
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
Six-word life
BY GRACE ADAMCZAK
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
They said I couldnt; you didnt.
Youre the light to my dark.
Youre the night to my light.
Without stars, I wouldnt have you.
Twelve years old, still feel 6.
Listening to silence
BY THOMAS CUDDY
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
I slowly walk up the stairs to my bedroom,
away from the distracting sounds of humans.
This is the day, I tell myself. The day you
nally hear it. The sound of silence.
I enter my room and close the door. I cant
let the sounds from downstairs sneak in.
Because thats not silence. And silence is what
I want to hear.
I dont know why I care to hear what this
sounds like. I dont know why it matters. But
suddenly, its the most important thing in the
world that I know what silence sounds like.
I take a breath and wait for my heart to stop
pounding. I wish that I hadnt had to go up the
stairs; it gets my heart rate up. And as long
as I can hear my heart beating, I cannot hear
the silence at least, not the pure, complete
silence I want.
Then, nally, the pounding quiets down,
and the excitement grows. Nows the time, I
tell myself eagerly. Nows the time I nally
get to hear it silence.
But as soon as the silence is almost complete, my ears are lled with a ringing sound,
and the silence fades away.
Wait a minute, I say. Whats going on?
Why are my ears doing this now?!
But then I notice that, as soon as I spoke,
the ringing sound vanished, and suddenly
I understand: Nobody is meant to hear the
sound of silence.
The tumble
Best invention
BY CADY LYKENS
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
BY JOSEPH WILLS
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
CLIMATE CHANGE
WRITING CHALLENGE
DEADLINE: APRIL 10
Walking on my old,
Vermont dirt road
BY KAYLA MCARTOR
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy
I love to walk along my old, Vermont dirt road
in winter.
When it snows, I sometimes shield my eyes.
For either way, I can be blinded. But at least
on my own terms, I feel safe.
Each snowake has its own little impact:
some compress under my feet, leaving prints
to keep track of where Ive been.
Some sparkle and catch my eye, make me
smile with the purest, simplest form of joy.
However, often the snow sugarcoats the roads
condition, like the sweet grains it reminds me
of.
Of course, it also reminds me of salt, which it
is often mixed with anyway.
It can ll the space between the ruts, make a
pothole appear shallow, or render a sheet of
glare ice invisible.
So of course I slip, usually not too much; a
stumble here, an unbalanced moment caused
by an unexpected hole there.
I try not to fall, but when I do I must get up.
My pants may be wet for the rest of my walk,
but its far better than sitting in the mud and
snow, not going anywhere.
I cannot predict these things; the road changes
every day.
It could be gouged with ruts a foot deep one
afternoon, and the next I nd the grader has
come and made it as smooth as the white bark
of an observing birch.
When walking my road, Im cautious about
the turns where I cannot see beyond the trees.
If a car comes, its common sense to stay
away from it, of course. But if it comes without warning, around a curve, I would at least
be startled by it.
I hope nothing worse than that ever happens
to me, but I know theres no guarantee; so still
I tread carefully.
I tend to watch my feet as I walk, mindlessly
taking step after step.
But I need to look up more often.
Because when I do, when I let myself drift for
a moment, the view is breathtaking.
Each snowake falls around me, so different,
so cherished.
The sun smiles; if not, even the clouds form
fantastic shapes to delight me.
My mother tells me that even when shes old
and relies on a cane, Ill still see her out walking these old, Vermont dirt roads.
And I believe her. Ill surely see you, walking
along your own road. Or perhaps well meet
along the same one.
Either way, well all keep walking, day after
day.
As for me? Ill look ahead, to where my old,
Vermont dirt road meets the interstate.
To the horizon, where the promise of a new
road awaits as the sun rises.
And to the snowakes I may or may not care
about, recognize, or even know exist.
So I may cherish those that fall on my road, or
on my tongue, where I can taste the sweetness
of winter.
Ill try to see through the snowakes that hide
obstacles along the way,
to avoid the areas where the snow looks too
deep for me.
One thing is certain:
I wont stop walking my old, Vermont dirt
road until the road ends.
YWP NEWS
CLIMATE CHANGE
WRITING CHALLENGE
DEADLINE: APRIL 10
Presented by Vermontivate!,
Vermont Energy Education Program
& Young Writers Project
Im lucky
BY ELIZABETH MAGNAN
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Cold embrace
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Protect me from your cold embrace.
Cover my heart, hide my face.
Hurt is something I must never feel,
so help me shield
out your vicious temptation.
As the wind dies from its creation
and the sea rises with fear,
let my innocent tears
wash you away.
Let me stay, let me stay.
I walk, I sprint, and bleed away from you.
And the clouds turn blue
as we try not to admit how cold you are
and how far
I must go to escape
your embrace.
Simply be
BY KAYLA MCARTOR
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Eh-hem! Alright, folks, lets get on with
it. You want to be more human, yes? Yes, yes
of course you do, why else would you pay
to take my class? Anyway, I wont bore you
with all the complex details. That is for next
semester... Now, what do you think is the most
important part of being a human being? Yes?
You in the back.
Um ... having emotions?
Ha! Just having emotions? Elephants, cats,
dogs, almost all living things have emotions.
Sure, most are backed by instinct, but hey!
Im sure a lion can hold a grudge well enough.
No, the key to emotions is identifying
them. Ill give you the answer to my question
since I like the track you put the class on with
your own answer: to be a human being, you
need to be able to think about yourself. Did
you know that on this earth humans are the
only creatures that study themselves? We are
even now trying to unlock the secrets of our
own brain. Philosophy. You wont see a cat
stop and think, Oh, gee, I wonder why I just
coughed up a hair ball? But I digress. I want
you all to practice thinking about yourselves.
Look at your body and ask questions. You see
a freckle, ask, Why do I have a freckle? If
you see a hair, ask, Why is that there? Then
I want to have a few of you give examples of
what you came up with.
What purpose do my eyebrows serve?
What is happening in my mouth when I chew?
Why does my nose stick out of my face?
I want to know why Mitchell is so ugly.
Now class, how would a human respond
to such an insult?
That was an insult? I thought it was a
valid question.
No, my dear student, that was not directed
at yourself, now was it? That was directed at
your friend. Or is he even your friend? Are
you merely pretending to be friends with him,
or are you such good friends that it doesnt
matter what you say to each other, you know,
you love each other anyway?
Umm...
Or maybe you are in love with Mitchell,
as in have a chemical attraction to him that
makes your stomach utter and heart race
whenever you are near him?
Well, I heard humans are usually attracted
to pretty people, so...
Or perhaps you simply dont recognize
the symptoms of love. Wait, perhaps symptoms wasnt the word I was looking for. Signs
would be a better one. Alright class, lets go
over how you know when youre in love, as
experiencing love is a major part of being
human!
Teacher, Im still not solid on the whole,
thinking about self thing. Can we go over
that more?
Oh, teacher, I was actually wondering
about the signs of anger? I heard they were
similar in some ways to love, and I think I
experienced anger a while ago.
Good question, what does the rest of the
class think ...
Teacher, I want to move on to other emotions like love right away.
And what about the hierarchy of human
families? Oh, and high school social groups!
Social groups in general. They seem so complicated!
Class, please ...
And the whole bonding with animals thing
is weird.
And the fear of death! How are we even
supposed to approach that concept?
Raising children! ...
Enough! Being a human is complicated,
yes, but you cant learn how to be one this
way! One simply has to be. Be what you are!
That said, my job is impossible and obsolete.
I quit!
YWP NEWS
THE VOICE
READ THE MARCH ISSUE!
Go to youngwritersproject.org
to get your FREE subscription
of YWPs monthly digital magazine!
CLIMATE CHANGE
WRITING CHALLENGE
Image
BY BRIANNA SALERNO
Grade 8, Faireld Center School
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
NEXT PROMPTS
Safe. Where do you feel safest and most
comfortable? Describe this place. Alternates: Slam. Rant and rave! Write your best
slam poem and make a podcast! or Photo 8
(below). Due March 20
Pain
BY KATIE LABELLE
Grade 8, Faireld Center School
You say youre ne, but I know that when
youre away from the prying ears and watchful eyes, youre really not.
Whenever we ask if youre okay, you say
yes, but you never quite nd any of our eyes.
Youre hurt. I step toward you. I want to
take away the pain, so maybe next time we
ask, youll look me in the eyes.
It kills me to see you fading away like this,
pretty soon youll be gone, consumed by the
pain.
But you push me away again. All youve
ever done is push me away.
Vermonts hearth
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
The winding trail to the peak
of French Hill overows
with intense and vibrant
red hues of the sugar-lled
maple trees.
I notice how their colors intensify
against the evergreens.
The maple tree harbors many leaves:
unique, optimistic, rustic;
while the evergreen
has millions of identical needles
stuck to its branches.
The maple trees innards
go best with a stack of pancakes.
The only quality evergreen sap exemplies
is its exceptional ability to stay
on your hands after the 37th wash.
I stare at the beauty of
the maples swaying hair.
Back and forth it
follows the gentle
brush of the wind.
After the few nal glances
are encapsulated in my
memory, I descend down
French Hills hidden trails.
Mother Nature has painted
her masterpiece
on Vermonts canvas,
and these orange mountains
are the hearth to my home.
Guardian aliens
BY KAYLA MCARTOR
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Dont tap my shoulder to ask for directions
When Im all but staring and my back is
hunched.
My blank expression
Will be the rst sign
Youve already seen too much.
Ill have to take you somewhere secluded
Where you wont ever reveal my secret.
Youll go willingly
Because you wouldnt refuse
A vacation like none youd forget.
Ill take to my home, a place far away
Where youll get to know the ways of my
people;
How at rst we are scary.
Thats why we stay hidden.
But without us, your day would prove fatal.
Ill sense that truck driver falling asleep,
Reach out with my senses to wake him before
He crashes into
A young mother and babe.
Of course at the same time Ill prevent even
more.
When Im all but staring, my back hunched
over,
Im actually intensely focused.
Im reading the futures
Of the people around me,
Preparing to help, while remaining unnoticed.
So dont go asking why I look normal, but
rarely
Act like the human Im impersonating.
An outcast of society,
A true wallower.
Because just that is a big realization.
If humanity found out theyve been invaded,
Theyd skip to shooting without asking questions.
Id be dead.
Soon youd be nixed, too,
Your protectors gone, future no longer predestined.
Human nature is a predictable trait.
Its proven to be untrustworthy the last thousand years.
Its faulty, starts wars,
Relies on false strength.
So be thankful Im hidden, hidden right here.
THE PROMPTS
1. 2065: Its the year 2065. Describe the coolest invention of the day. Tell a story
about how you use it.
2. School. What do you wish your school would do or provide that it doesnt do/provide now?
3. Animal: Youve been granted a wish to be transformed into an animal for 24 hours.
What animal would you be? Why? Tell a
story of what happens.
4. Staircase: Its midnight. You cant
sleep. You open the door to your bedroom
and there, in the hall, is a fantastic staircase
that youve never seen before. What do you
do? What happens?
5. Six: Write as many six-word stories
as you can.
6. Free Write: Write about anything!
Tell a story!
7. Photo: Write from the perspective of
anyone, or anything in the photo, right.
CLIMATE CHANGE
WRITING CHALLENGE
WRITE! WIN CASH!
DETAILS:
youngwritersproject.org/
climate15
DEADLINE: APRIL 10
Footsteps
BY JARAD CLARK
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
It rains on some
far-off mountain.
A pool develops
in the footprint
of a heavy animal that lumbers by,
exceeds its capacity and
ows downward as
compelled,
continues,
unabated; a
stream
forms, owing steadily
down;
others
add to its strength; It
turns into a river when
it reaches the base, arrives at a cliff, and
hurtles
without tepidity,
but tremendous
power and force,
and nally comes to a calm, pooling beneath
the cliff.
Ripples
BY OLIVIA CHRISTIE
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
The water rushes around my ears.
A strange silence pushes at my eardrums,
kick, whoosh.
I glide again,
reaching forward,
pulling the crystalline water with my cupped
hands.
My open eyes sting,
the chlorination an angry bee,
only the little circles
dot across the pool.
The grey day nally comes to fruition
as lazy gobs of rain dive into the water
mixed with the chemical bath.
Pure.
The rhythm of swimming is undeniable,
one, two, three, four,
pull, breathe, kick, glide.
The water envelops my body
like a blanket,
neither warm nor cool.
My feet push off the wall,
reminding me that I still exist.
The rain gets heavier,
pelts the surface,
the ripples like rings on a coffee table.
Thunder rumbles,
the thud of a heartbeat,
the noise of the world intercepting the
quiet ripples in the center
eventually reach the edge.
Flying man
BY SEAN HENGEMUHLE
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Flying through the clean brisk air,
the weight of prior doubts and worries are
shed from within.
The sun shines into a sea of radiant glory,
untouched,
ready to be basked in. The rate and manner at
which the air is pierced
is smooth, slow, silent,
solemn. The breeze washes, cleanses, puries.
The monotonous indulgence induces a trance.
Eyes are no longer needed
to see what lies ahead, only instinct proctors
the lofty lightness of ight.
Boundaries are none. Life is limitless.
Frozen earth
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I sit and let the frost-bit air kill me,
envelop me with icy breeze,
the snow making my cheeks numb
as I think about the thoughts to come.
Why am I here on this frozen tundra?
I stop and breathe as icicles form in my lungs,
my untouchable hope silently hung
above my head
Go to youngwritersproject.org
for your FREE subscription!
NEXT PROMPTS
Decision. Think of a time you had to make
a difcult decision and create a ctional
character who makes the opposite choice from
the decision you made (or would make) in this
situation. What would turn out differently?
Alternates: Idea. Write about a seemingly bad
idea that turns out great; or Manual. Write
instructions on how to be a human being. Due
March 13
Beasty
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I was at the top of
the mountain, standing
on its auburn and muted
grey granite plateau.
The birch trees bloated the valleys belly
and slid onto the cattles plains.
I closed my eyes and
stood like Christ the Redeemer:
xed, unyielding.
Until the rumble came.
It jiggled the belly of the valley
and screamed to the mountain.
The leaves on the trees quivered
as the being brushed past.
I heard its steps getting closer
to the edge of the mountain.
I had always heard it roam
in this forest, but I had never
heard it come at me with
such aggression.
Thump,
thwick,
tisp.
Forever
BY GRACE ADAMCZAK
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
I remember the time we spent together,
when you said youd love me forever.
Through any kind of weather,
wed always be together.
What happened to the day
when we spent our time away,
when I asked you to stay
and you said Okay.
You said youd love me till you die,
but I wasnt ready to say goodbye.
What if I could save you now,
and never say my wedding vow?
Id switch places if I could,
but I know thatll be no good.
Goodbye to you,
my little baby blue.
NEXT PROMPTS
Supersilly. Come up with a hilarious,
seemingly useless superpower and explain
how one might defeat a villain using it.
Alternates: Secret. Write about a secret (real
or ctional) that people must never know; or
People. Write about a secret people (a hidden
population) that most but not all people
never know. Due March 6
Decision. Think of a time you had to make
a difcult decision and then create a ctional
character who makes the opposite choice from
the decision you made (or would make) when
faced with the same situation. Alternates:
Idea. Write about a seemingly bad idea that
turns out great; or Manual. Write instructions
on how to be a human being. Due March 13
Cleanse
BY ABIGAIL BUCKLEY
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Cleanse your soul with the darkness that consumes others.
Let it be heard that we are not anonymous,
that we are not minstrels in the eye of arrogant
superiors,
and are heard in our farthest cries under deep
waters.
Our voices will never cleanse our whereabouts anywhere.
We will only be heard, but the world will not
change,
though we still talk, because we think ourselves speechless.
We sing to create joy that did not come to us
naturally.
We dance to make ourselves believe that we
are wholly free.
We read to escape to another world where we
feel not like shadows.
We write to understand that others insanities
are quite similar.
We look to our ancestors to not repeat their
mistakes, but still resume where they left off.
We look to our religion in need, but never
question whos actually there.
Who is listening to us when we are at our
worst?
Who is as true as there is no such thing as
perfect?
Who wants us around day to day just to walk
by us?
And who wants us here just to cherish our
indifference?
Tell me, because I can do this no more.
THE VOICE,
YWPS DIGITAL MAGAZINE
Growing up
YWP NEWS
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Think for a moment. Put down all your distractions, yes, your phone is included.
Look around you and recap your life. Laugh and cry with all your might.
Im currently staring into a screen, writing about things that no 15-year-old girl would
know about: life.
I cant begin to describe struggles and pain because they dissolve into nothing. I dont
care if I have a huge audience above or below listening to me babble about what it means to
live; this is me, a human made of feelings and esh, just letting go.
Whether youre young or old, maybe you are or have experienced this fear Ive developed.
I have a fear of aging.
I love being a kid, and being a leader who really doesnt need to truly fend for herself but
has the choice to.
I have three years left until I am an adult and, wow, am I scared.
But as I go off to drive and apply for college, I cry and shiver because Im not ready to
leave my youth behind, my family and going home to watch TV and take naps.
I guess Im just not ready for the world to rip me up yet.
All my friends are beaming at the chance to grow up and be independent, but I am not.
My independence isnt dened by my age at all; its dened by my condence level, and
Im scared that out in the real world, Ill be deated.
Anyway, you can go back to twiddling your thumbs and whatever else you wish to do,
but I wish for you to all remember what this fear of growing up was like for you.
IS
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
The Snow falls outside the window
with a certain slide, a pushing tilt.
It bombards the buildings and streets
with an innocent ascension.
Its funny how people love
these beautiful akes.
Its funny how people love
Winters weapon of choice:
deceitful geometric crystals.
They coat the roads with
accidents and paint themselves
with blood.
They land upon the dead mans
cheek and cover him until
Spring wipes them away.
They sleep on scales of a roof
until it becomes a sink hole.
NEXT PROMPTS
Thats when it
all changed
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I walked lightly on the small stones,
admiring how alone
I was.
And thats when everything changed...
My eyes lifting widely from the ground,
my ombre face turning to a frown
thats when I nally got it
why I failed to make the cut,
make the list.
At rst I thought it was
because of my image,
but no,
there was something much bigger lling
in for my original assumption
and my brains thoughts resumption.
As I turned around and sprinted,
the once soft small stones imprinted
my big feet
and the path became steep.
Now I knew
it was never me;
it was temptations begging to be free.
I laughed
with no regard for nature
while running across the acres.
For years, I thought I was to blame,
but Id been a pawn
in a larger game.
Im not the broken one anymore,
just another number in the score
of how many hearts
they could break,
how many souls
they could shake.
I stopped to catch my breath
and quickly recap
what Id lost, and what was left.
They took so much from me,
but somehow, I am happy,
just because it was never me,
or my image.
It was them.
YWP NEWS
Angus
BY OLIVIA BELROSE
Grade 6, St. Albans Town Educational Center
In 2014, my summer was awesome because
my family and I got a new puppy. We had
really wanted a dog since our other dog died
of old age.
So we tried to nd a place where we could
get one, but we just couldnt seem to nd one.
Then one day my mother found some ads
in the newspaper. The rst one we found
had black labs but we couldnt get one from
there since they werent going to be ready to
go home until August and we wouldnt have
enough time to train the puppy before my
mom and I returned to school.
So we thought we werent going to get a
puppy until I found another ad in the paper; it
said they had yellow labs. So I told my mother
and she called the place and they said they
had two left and they were located in Cabot,
Vermont.
So the night before we went to get the
puppy, we went down to Tractor Supply and
got some things for the dog. We got a small
bag of dog food to start with and some puppysized chew toys, plus some doggy treats.
Watch out
BY SAMANTHA DEVLIN-COMBS
Grade 8, Faireld Center School
Lock your doors,
shut your windows,
hide under your bed!
The Monster is coming.
It has green scale-like skin,
sharp dagger teeth
and claws as long as time.
Its teeth are yellow.
Its eyes are bright red.
So if you are ever home alone,
I suggest you hide under your bed
before ...
it gets in your home and searches for you.
The next thing you know
GULP!! youre dead.
Loving Alone
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Dear Alone,
We have gotten to know
each other too well.
Almost to the point where
I can see you stalk your next victim.
I see you hide underneath
the beaten oorboards with
sickly eyes: waiting, wanting.
Waiting for the cat to die
or the spouse to leave the
person crying.
I see your hunger from
the imprints of your rib-cage,
and the spit drooling from
your mouth while you sit
in the rafters.
I see the want in you.
It pains me to see you
this way: deled, deated.
Which is why you and I
have always been different.
I have learned to love
our afternoons together.
Just you and me.
At rst it was uncomfortable,
but Ive grown used to you.
I know our relationship has
developed because when
Im surrounded by people
I can feel you gently holding my hand.
I can hear you whisper to me
over the entire chorus,
dont forget me.
And I always answer
back, never.
THE VOICE
READ THE FEBRUARY ISSUE!
SAMUEL BOUDREAU
OF BELLOWS FREE ACADEMY
IS WRITER OF THE MONTH!
Go to youngwritersproject.org to get your
FREE subscription
of YWPs monthly digital magazine today!
NEXT PROMPTS
Listen. Click on the audio for this prompt on youngwritersproject.org. What do the
sounds evoke? If a setting comes to mind, write about that; if its a character, describe the
character. Alternates: You. Someone wants to tell you something because youre the only
one who will understand. What is the story? Who is telling you? How does it affect you?;
or General writing. Due Feb. 20
Tunnel. You nd a tunnel in the ground. How did you stumble upon it and where does it
lead? Experiment with character, point of view and setting. Alternates: Law. Change one
fundamental law of physics (how our world works) and describe what would happen without that law in place, e.g., funky gravity, spontaneous reordering of broken objects, solid
objects becoming gaseous/gaseous objects become solid, or make up a new law; or Photo 7
(See youngwritersproject.org). Due Feb. 27
Blonde girl
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Cheap red lipstick lines her lips
While a tight navy skirt hugs her hips
A tiny blonde, too fond of her own success
Stuck in an avalanche of stress
She walks with edge and discomfort
Not showing that shes been hurt
Her skin so pale you can see her veins
And she gently refrains from speaking
Afraid of accidently leaking
The truth of her own desperate state
Always a second too late
If only this cheap Barbie of a girl
Would realize her head doesnt need to always
swirl
That good enough is her title
That instead of being subtle
She can be herself
Regardless of the hurt and pain
Her rufed white shirt stained
By tears
And fear
Of being judged by those who dont even
matter
Constantly she tries to climb this ladder
Made out of jealous words, and insecure bodies
If only she realized that making herself into a
copy
Would only make things worse
That giving up wouldnt take all the hurt
Out of her heart
But thats not the part
That this blonde beauty will get trapped in
Its her need to win
Her desire to be accepted
Its like shes been infected
With an illness that makes her want to be
perfect
But in some weird way I guess shes actually
correct
Because half the other fools in our world are
infected too
All of us believe that image is the glue
Of our lives
But that, right there, isnt right
I only wish that this blonde baby girl would
soon notice
That while shes been so focused
On not screwing up
Shes forgotten about all of her accomplishments
And how beautifully imperfect she is
And I know wishes dont usually come true
But maybe this time the tiny girl with blue
Eyes, will nally not suck in her stomach, and
hide her curves
Maybe for once shell let her voice be heard
Because I know if she stopped judging herself
Others would stop judging her as well
If she just took the time to acknowledge how
amazing she is
She would realize that being perfect isnt what
she needs
What she needs is to be able to look in the
mirror and say
I love myself
My carbon copy
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
You look at me
with no emotion.
Your face is a
transparent black
because of the light,
and you are a wannabe me.
Trapped in my silhouette,
I can only imagine what
it must feel like. Always
following and never leading.
Yet, I am not deceived by
your pathetic attitude.
I know the lips youve kissed
on the bench next to the
blooming cherry blossom tree.
I know the horror youve felt
when you jumped off the
Empire State Building and
started to regret it.
I know the feeling of galloping
through a golden eld like
a mentally insane man
escaping his asylum.
Because once you come back
to me with your adventures,
they become my dreams.
You do this only to deceive,
to take revenge because
of your imprisonment,
to play your part in the game.
But,
Shadow,
Brother,
Carbon Copy,
in those dreams, I realized
you mimicked my day.
Every feeling was in its proper place,
and there were no exclusions.
I guess all you wanted to tell me
was, Im here to listen.
| EVERY MONTH
THE VOICE
Samuel Boudreau is featured in the February issue of YWPs The Voice. Check it out on
youngwritersproject.org!
NEXT PROMPTS
Break free
BY ADSEL SPARROW
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
I can see you,
the real you,
the one who smiles when I get something
right,
the one who blushes when complimented.
But why do you hide
behind your shell,
the shell of what everyone wants to see?
Perfection.
Politeness.
You dont have to hide.
We wont hurt you.
We know the real you.
Weve all seen it
even though you try your hardest to hide it.
You can come out.
I know youre there.
All you have to do is break the shell,
smash it
so you can never crawl back into it again
because then everyone will see
what I see:
your caring smile,
your bright red blush.
They will see all of that
and just one more thing,
your beauty,
because you are beautiful
and thats what makes you shine.
YWP NEWS
Watching me
BY KRYS BROWN
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I woke up and saw no one. I was in the
middle of the street in New York City. Cars
abandoned, sidewalks empty, and the city
quiet.
It wasnt as if everyone had died, but it was
like everyone had gone and forgot to tell me.
I wandered. I went inside buildings to
nd them empty. I was alone. I didnt mind
the quiet, but I felt like there was somebody
watching me.
I looked around and saw a man in a white
hooded cloak standing on the opposite side
of the street. He then teleported a few fee
towards me. Still staring at me.
He then appeared right in front of me. He
pushed me to the ground without touching me.
He lowered his face right above mine and a
pale bloody hand reached out of his mouth,
and a womans face bloody face followed.
She screamed as she grabbed my face,
sticking her thumb through my eye, and
squeezing. I woke up with a loud ring in my
head.
Math problem
BY LAURENT GAGNE
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Impending death, T-minus 5 minutes.
I wasnt scared.
The body doesnt feel fear when it dreams.
But I was feeling something,
a need of information or explanation.
Curiosity.
What was going to happen? What would I
feel?
The thought of death had always clashed with
my thoughts,
feeling helpless for not understanding the
outcome of our lives.
Death. What is death?
To me, death is an unsolvable math problem.
You can only get the answer after you hand it
in.
Here I was,
ready to hand it in, ready to move on.
I felt the end coming up behind my door.
The world went black,
then lit back up.
Not in reality, just yet,
the world was blurred and twisty.
A deeper dream within the dream.
I was so confused.
The world began to fade.
I took one last glimpse until
I woke up.
An imperfect quiz
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Abandoned circus
BY HEAVEN COLLINS
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I woke up drenched in a cold sweat, sitting
upright. I looked around, panicked that this
dream nally became a reality. But no, thank
God. It was probably my third time in the last
four months experiencing this stupid dream.
And somehow, it always ended up exactly
the same way: Kidnappers slithering into my
house, taking me with them in the night. They
wear all black, blending in with the darkest
corners of my room. They are the monsters
that lurk in the dark corners of little kids
bedrooms.
Circus, an abandoned circus, thats where
they bring me. Its in the middle of some eld,
a eld just like we have by our house. Was
there ever a circus over there? Maybe in the
1920s or 30s or even 50s, but not anything I
can think of recently.
Maybe there were a few circus tents left
over from a show or something, symbolic of
the show must go on.
Trapped, I was trapped and scared and an
overwhelming feeling of Im not ready to
die yet! always takes over me. I didnt even
get to say goodbye to my friends or anything.
Ill never get to watch my favorite movies or
television shows again. And one more thing,
Im not going to die without nding out what
happens in the 2016 Twin Peaks reboot.
God cant play me like this.
NEXT PROMPTS
Change. Write a story or poem that
includes the sentence, Thats when everything changed. Alternates: Limerick.
Write a limerick: a poem of ve lines, the
1st, 2nd, and 5th lines rhyming, and the 3rd
and 4th lines rhyming and use humor; or
Child. Write a story from the perspective of
a small child who is left alone and could be
either frightened and confused by the situation or very resourceful and determined.
Due Feb. 6
The bridge
BY BRIANNA STEBER
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Silence
BY JUSTIN DAIGLE
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Im running, fast and relentless,
but what am I running from?
Why am I running?
A large white ball
crashes down a never-ending white staircase;
everything is white, even my clothes.
I keep running; Im tired.
I cant hear myself panting.
I cant hear anything,
not my feet hitting the stairs,
not my fast heavy breathing.
Even the huge white ball chasing me
makes not even a squeak,
not even a crunch as it crashes down,
crushing the stairs into a thousand pieces.
The silence drives me mad.
I keep yelling and talking but nothing comes
out.
Its not the ball that will deliver the killing
blow,
its this damned silence.
It seems to be eating away at my brain,
picking out all the clever, cunning solutions,
solutions to this predicament.
But what does it mean?
NEXT PROMPTS
Detective. Write a detective story about a
librarian who nds a mysterious package at
her front door. Alternates: Penny. Tell the
life story of a penny since it was minted to
the time you received it as change; or Photo
6 (Write a story or poem based on the photo,
left). Due Jan. 30
2:30 a.m.
BY HALEY NOEL
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Here I am again at this old mansion up on
a hill surrounded by dead trees and crunchy
grass. The sun is setting, but it is not beautiful.
It is like blood dripping behind the horizon;
I just want to look away, but my face wont
turn.
The dry caw of a crow lls the air. Then
I am running. We are all running. The dead
grass is crushed beneath our feet.
We are desperately trying to escape the
monsters. The monsters look like huge cats
with glowing yellow eyes, lions and tigers
twice our size and chasing us with saliva dripping from their jowls.
THE VOICE
YWPS MONTHLY DIGITAL MAGAZINE!
JANES TRUST
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Today is the day we
skip work, the park and school.
Today we venture to look at ourselves
in the Oceans face.
My husband Mark
is a lawyer, and he has
trouble getting time off.
He, unfortunately, has to
miss today. Henry, the eldest,
and Lucy, the youngest, always
love it when their father comes
to North Shore with us. He likes
to hurl both of them into the
water. After hours of playing,
their faces are like
a salt block for a horse.
When mommy surprises us
with a beach day, its always
the sunniest day of the year!
Its like shes Mother Nature
and can change the weather.
We usually go to the park on
Oak Street, but I guess the
day is too beautiful for
the park. Henry never has a
smile on his face, but today he does!
School is a place where
children die and adults
are born. I hate school,
all of the rules, tests and
teachers. Beach day, however,
is like my action-herolled toy chest people to
play with, no rules and
the ocean is an endless
playground of shells, urchins
and seaweed.
Today is the day
we let the ocean
swallow us whole.
Moon
BY ABIGAIL MAE BUCKLEY
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
NEXT PROMPTS
Time. You have somehow been transported back in time and are inhabiting the mind
of someone else. Write about the internal conversation. Alternates: Queasy. Put your
character in a situation that makes her/him queasy. What is the situation and how can
the character get away from it?; or Button. Pressing buttons (in elevators, hotel rooms,
airplane seats) can be irresistible and usually harmless but this time, when you press a
button, something very strange happens. Tell the story. Due Jan. 23
If dinosaurs existed
BY NOAH GILBERT
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
Sir, we found this note in a really dark tunnel.
NEXT PROMPTS
Statue. Youre walking through an empty park and pass a statue. To your surprise,
the statue strikes up a conversation with you. Tell the story of the statue and what it
says. Alternates: Dark. Are you scared of the dark? Why?; or Houston. You are an
astronaut. Describe a moment oating in space. Due Jan. 9
Love. Write the sappiest, sweetest love story you can think of. Go overboard. Exaggerate and inate! Alternates: Philosopher. Take a eeting thought and wax philosophic about it (e.g., what if were really controlled by the tides?); Headlines. Read todays
headlines from your favorite news source. Which one catches your eye the most
uplifting one or the most disturbing? Read the story and write a short opinion piece or
letter to the editor about it. Due Jan. 16
Visions of winter
BY ELIZABETH MAGNAN
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Some say that
when winter comes
everything dies.
They only see
the brown grass
and the leaess trees.
They see only
the animals that
have migrated away
to warmer places.
All they see
is the gray clouds
and the seemingly
colorless landscape.
Their sight is blinded by the cold.
But I see
a whole different world.
I see the grass and trees
covered with a layer
of sparkling,
frozen frosting.
I see the new animals,
the uffed-up chickadees
and the snow geese.
I see the clouds
that bring
sparkling snow
that is splashed
with a million different colors.
I see the beauty
within the cold.
BY ADSEL SPARROW
Grade 7, St. Albans Town Educational Center
Every day, there are people who inspire us,
people who we look up to because we want
to be like them. We want to be a best-selling
author or a prima ballerina.
We know that we cant, but we dream we
can because of them. They make us want to be
the best we can be and better. They make us
rise up to the challenge to be like them. To be
just as good.
And they can be anybody. A mother, a
celebrity, your best friend, or even a baby.
They open your eyes to a world you never
saw. And now you can see all possibilities that
lie before you.
But when that person is taken from your
life, it feels like a piece of your soul is gone,
hanging in between you and that person, and
none of you can reach it.
A sadness hangs around you like a cloud
that you cant get rid of. Even when the sun
shines through the cloud, something makes
you think of that person, and then cloud covers the sun once again. That world you once
saw slowly fades away into a black abyss.
But you have to keep going. You have to
push forward and live without them.
And thats hard. Really, really hard.
But its the only way to see through the
sadness. That agony will always be there, but
after a while, it softens and lets go.
And youll start to appreciate the moments
you did have. Youll start to see that amazing
world again.
But this time, you cant let it slip away. You
have to cherish it. You have to cherish them.
And you cant let them go. You cant let them
fade away again. Even if you want to, you
cant. You have to keep them with you in your
heart forever.
NEXT PROMPTS
Sunset in Vermont
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
It was winter again. My face felt numb as I
stepped out into the frost-bitten air.
Why am I here? I often asked myself questions like this, questions based on my purpose, but always scolded myself for defying
science.
My mother was Martha-Ann the Mayor;
she was never a good listener but tried to understand. My father was the town logger; his
business was tricky but well suited.
I wasnt the only one; there was Lou and
Kiara. I assumed the middle child slot and
went by the name of Carly. As I walked along
my property on that fresh winter day I got to
thinking about the possibility of things, what
I could be, where I could go. My silence was
broken by my sister Kiara yelling after me to
wait. She caught up and we walked along until
we reached the pond.
Kiara giggled pathetically and ran to lace
up her skates. Kiara was my familys main
event she was an amazing gure skater and
Inspirations
Bunny hill
BY HALEY NOEL
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Boots and bindings,
so unfamiliar,
they feel like brand new legs.
I cant get them to work.
I fall like a calf
trying to stand up
for the
rst time.
In my mind,
it seems easy.
My body
disagrees.
Knees are achy.
Hips twist in ways
I wish they wouldnt.
Board is sent in
every direction
like a blind bird
trying to y.
Im instructed to
breathe,
to look in the direction
I want to go,
to keep my shoulders and knees
aligned
with my toes and heels.
Again and again,
bruised, cold
from falling and
falling and
falling.
I want to give up, but
tell myself not to.
I want to go.
Then I go.
Down the hill.
Cold Vermont wind
hits my face,
makes my
10-year-old cheeks
a numbing
bright pink.
Im going and
going and
going.
I can barely feel
the smile stretching
on my frozen face
when I reach the bottom.
No mistakes
for the rst time!
For Christmas,
take me home
Lighting hope
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
In winter, trees, the heat,
grass and the birds song
all die and drift away into
winters pocketbook.
However, there is one
day, out of winters
entire spell that makes
it worthwhile.
On Christmas Eve,
people from all walks
of life gather at St. Pauls
United Methodist Church
and we light candles of hope.
The tiny ames icker as
they sway back and forth
while the congregation
sings Silent Night.
Singing in the crowd
makes me realize that
not everything in our
world has to die
because winter has
moved in.
Especially not our spirits.
Faults of winter
BY SOFIA SPANO
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
WINTER TALES
SCHEDULE OF YWP WRITERS
NEXT PROMPTS
Sunday Dec. 14 @ 6 p.m.
Frances Kaplan
Eleanor Braun
(These pieces were selected from more
than 200 submissions to Young Writers
Project. They will be presented by the
Vermont Stage Company at FlynnSpace
in Burlington as part of the 10th annual
Winter Tales. For more information and
to purchase tickets, go to vtstage.org/
winter-tales.)
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
BY SOPHIA CANNIZZZARO
Grade 9, Homeschool, West Glover
YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
BY MINGO MAQUERA
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Thanks
Daydream
Thanks for
toppling over the dead and broken pine tree
that I was
and working the wood into a magic wand.
Thanks for
touching your ngertip to the bottom
of my card castle
and catching the cards as they fell.
Thanks for
snapping a picture of what I was before
and tearing it up
and throwing it in the ocean on that night
when
we rst kissed.
Thanks for
carefully picking apart the solid fabric of my
soul
leaving a long strand of yarn that can now
be worked into something
far more beautiful.
Thanks for
exploding into my carefully put together,
precisely measured world
like an atomic bomb
and splattering everything Ive painstakingly
made all over my
carefully cleaned clothing.
Thanks for
destroying my life
and xing my heart.
Tearing through
the night
NEXT PROMPTS
Invention. Youve just invented the next big thing! Pitch it to the head of the most
inuential company you know. What is it and what does it do? Alternates: 15, 10,
5. Create a short dialogue of three characters. The rst can only speak 15 words,
the second 10, and the third just ve words; or Author. Write in the style of your
favorite author or poet. Include the writers name and a favorite quote, if you like.
Due Dec. 5
100 Miles. You get lost and end up walking 100 miles through thick, bug-infested
woods. When its nally over, you cant believe whats waiting for you in a clearing
at the edge of the forest Alternates: Online. Somehow youve fallen into the Web
page youve been browsing. Where are you? Whats happening?; or General writing in any genre. Due Dec. 12
My guardian angel
BY TATIANNA BANUS
Grade 7, Georgia Elementary and Middle
School
Society kills
BY ROSIE BIBONA
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Sit up straight.
Eyes forward.
Dont stare.
Keep that smile!
Always be happy.
Show kindness to everyone.
Always listen to your parents.
Be perfect.
School will help you in life.
Only a man and a woman!
This type of music puts bad thoughts in your
head.
Never talk back.
Be.
Just stay calm and everything will be alright.
Perfect.
Use your manners.
If you do this, youll get in trouble.
Art isnt a real career.
Be perfect.
Follow in your elders footsteps.
Women cant do mens jobs.
Be perfect.
Always be yourself.
Oh, wait.
Not like that.
Be perfect.
Be perfect.
Sorry to disappoint you, but perfect doesnt
exist.
DETAILS:
5 pm Workshop
6 pm Sign up for Slam
6:30 pm Slam begins!
THE VOICE
Finding light
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
We creep towards the
pindrops of light. I see them
zipping and zapping through
the whole eld. These bugs
tease us.
Swat
Smack
Whack!
My friends and I try to jail
the reies in our palms.
Zzzzp
Zap
Zzzzt.
I peek through my clutch
and I see the creature
dancing against
my ngertips.
I open my hands and
let the rey wisp away.
How it must feel to
be a light in a time of
darkness.
Complainers
BY ELIZABETH MAGNAN
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I guess Im being hypocritical
because
Im complaining about complainers.
But
sometimes I just hate complainers.
Like the ones that complain about our president.
Id like to see them try to be president,
never going to have the full countrys support
because
theres always someone that complains about
something.
Or the ones that complain about how
America is going to the dogs.
Well,
Id like to see them living somewhere
with no
septic,
electricity
or running water,
and not enough food
or clean water.
And the kids that complain about school
Id like to see them make
their dreams happen
without an education.
I dont get
the people who complain about the little
things
when there are people
starving,
being raped,
being murdered,
being stoned to death,
being burned alive.
Those are the things we need to complain
about.
Go to thevoice.youngwritersproject.org!
NEXT PROMPTS
Invention. Youve just invented the next
big thing! Pitch it to the head of the most
inuential company you know. What is it
and what does it do? Alternates: 15, 10, 5.
Create a short dialogue of three characters.
The rst can only speak 15 words, the
second 10, and the third just ve words; or
Author. Write in the style of your favorite
author or poet. Include the writers name
and a favorite quote, if you like.
Due Dec. 5
I never understood
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I never understood the quiet ones,
or the loud.
And I never thought Id be either until now,
their skinny waists and big egos,
their undened hope and silent heroes.
I still fail at trying to understand them,
the devious and the bold.
My ideas have been sold
on the black market to thieves.
With this I breathe
because my thoughts are too confusing
to keep amusing.
The sad ones and the populars dont understand me.
They dont see what I see.
And this makes me wonder once more,
whos the girl in the revolving door?
The gure I compel is so messed up its almost unexplainable,
my fury eyes so unobtainable.
I never understood the broken ones
until now.
I get what they are, how they feel.
What they try to steal
from themselves
isnt their lives,
but their right to live.
I am broken, but not in the sense of death,
in the sense of, I am broken into pieces
and tied to leashes
from which I cant escape.
I will never understand them,
those fools,
but I dont have to
because not understanding is the fun of it.
Right?
Relief
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Dreams are
the Joan Rivers of human
psychology. They are
direct, and lters are
nonexistent.
In my dreams,
I sit at a table
in a modest house.
Theres an exalted golden retriever
at my hip with a
pretentious orange tabby cat
meandering over the top of the table.
I feel content, like a cow
chewing the hay in its mouth,
staring and chewing,
chewing and staring.
Everything is alright,
no worries oat in my
brain.
The knots in my back
untie themselves
and the feel of the table
is smooth and soft.
I understand what the
dream is telling me;
its tonic water
in a pint glass.
It simply means:
Everything will be okay.
Do not freak out,
do not worry,
and, most importantly,
do not be afraid.
NEXT PROMPTS
Reporter. You are a new reporter, excited to be assigned to your rst big story, but everything seems to conspire against you (e.g., trafc jams, torrential rain, wrong information, police
barricades, people who refuse to be interviewed.) Somehow
you manage to get the story, make the deadline and win the
editors approval. Whats the story and how do you pull it off?
Alternates: Seconds. Describe something that happened in mere
seconds, something big or small; or Famous. You nd out someone you know is famous. Describe the person, and why s/he is
famous. How does this affect you? Due Nov. 21
Snails. Did you know snails can swallow you whole? Or
that the Loch Ness Monster and Lake Champlains Champ are
cousins? Tell a ridiculous whopper but be persuasive enough that
someone just might believe you. Alternates: Proposal. Write
about a wedding proposal that goes terribly wrong; or Photo 5
(Library of Congress, right). Due Nov. 28
Photo 5. Library of Congress
By the shore
BY ABIGAIL MAE BUCKLEY
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
I get in bed
for an early slumber
to dream a dream
of malevolent wonder,
a dream so sweet.
There he stands
by the shore
upon the slippery sands.
I walk on up,
not a doubt in my mind.
He is the key to my life
that Id have to nd,
a stranger, unknown,
yet seen so much,
a hero to me,
my only crutch.
He whispers to me,
I love you.
And all I think is,
I love you, too.
But is that the case?
Have I fallen for a stranger?
A dream.
Can it become reality?
We sit on the powdery sands;
hand in hand,
we take a stand.
This dream is our land.
He grins at me
and kisses my cheek,
then blushes with joy,
yet I remain quiet and meek.
We listen to the waves abroad.
In silence we lie, side by side.
Is this still a dream?
Or is this day?
When I wake, its close to sunset
and Im no longer with the stranger I met.
Im looking and searching,
but Im now back in my bedroom, lled with
regret.
I go get my morning coffee
at the cafe down the street.
Maybe a pastry to eat?
I push past the door.
The sweet smell of lusciousness lls me,
fuels me
and excites me.
I buy my coffee,
a pastry too,
but when I walk out,
I see someone I once knew.
There he stands,
his dark locks falling around his face,
his small freckles like stars in the sky.
Id say Im shocked,
but thats simply not the case.
Im astounded, yet horried.
Happy, yet out of breath.
Why now?
Why today of all days?
Why here?
Why anywhere?
He gazes
while I stare.
Then hes gone, like a icker,
a ash or glimpse, but quicker.
He was never there,
thats why.
Id thought the dream to be him,
but now he is the dream.
YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
THE VOICE
CHECK OUT THE OCTOBER ISSUE OF
BY MINGO MAQUERA
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Fall
NEXT PROMPTS
Pluto. NASA writes an apology
letter to Pluto for demoting it from
planet status. Who receives the letter
and whats the reaction?
Personality
BY SAMUEL BOUDREAU
Grade 12, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Looking at me, and
getting to know me are
two polar opposites.
Just like vodka,
I might appear to
be a harmless glass
of H2O, but when your
nose wanders over to
that red Solo cup, then
I might push you back
a few steps.
I have quite a personality
that can be hard to
swallow, but if you
Faces
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Different sizes and shapes,
thousands upon thousands
of detailed faces
that are all so unique.
Everyone beautiful freaks.
Imperfections
turned perfect.
We are original
in ourselves.
Our laughs
and smiles
make us who we are.
And thats
by far
the most amazing thing
Ive ever come to know.
36 COLLEGE STREET
MONTPELIER
Register for workshops today
at youngwritersproject.org! Its FREE!
THE VOICE
Decisions
BY JULIA ELLIS
Grade 8, Georgia Elementary and Middle
School
Oh, decisions, decisions,
how do we make decisions?
What path shall we take?
Will our decisions lead to destruction or accomplishment?
Decisions, decisions,
good or bad,
we learn.
Oh decisions, decisions,
your good makes me happy and proud;
your bad makes me sad and ashamed.
Decisions, decisions,
please be kind,
please be accomplished,
please be good,
please be happy,
please be proud.
Decisions, decisions,
everyone makes decisions,
no matter how hard, easy, or complicated they
are.
Oh, decisions, decisions,
you give us answers;
you can set us back,
you can lead us.
Oh, decisions, decisions.
Go to thevoice.youngwritersproject.org
READ, ENJOY AND GET A FREE SUBSCRIPTION!
Honk! Festival of Activist Street Bands, Boston, Oct. 11. YWPs Sophia Cannizzaro of West Glover took this photo and
also participated with the Bread and Puppet brass band.
NEXT PROMPTS
Tracks
BY SOPHIA CANNIZZARO
Grade 9, Homeschool, West Glover
As I stare along the tracks
I realize that I cannot imagine your face
after traveling just sixty miles
and
Im glad.
A haunted tail
BY KAYLA MCARTOR
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Shelby! Stop, you dumb dog!
I start sprinting down the cracked sidewalk,
grateful that the street Im on is abandoned.
God, how embarrassing would that be if
other people could see me like this, chasing
my retriever like a little school girl after a
buttery? A very angry school girl, but still,
not cool.
Shelby! I yell again as the muddy yellow
blur of her body streaks around a corner, out
of view.
My scarf aps up into my face, momentarily blinding me. I almost run straight into a
low-hanging maple branch, its leaves in peak
autumn uorescence.
Jeez! I duck quickly, smacking it aside.
At least the leaves were like stop-signs, warning lights. Nature is on my side, woo-hoo.
Finally I turn the corner, praying to every
higher power I can think of that Shelby is still
in sight. I skid to a stop on the damp cement
overgrown with weeds, panting with exertion.
My hair is in my eyes, but I ignore it and
pan my eyes around desperately; Im more
irritated than anything, the stupid mutt nearly
tore my arm out taking off like this!
Then my eyes catch a glint of gold at
the far end of the street, almost completely
obscured by shadows and old boards nailed
haphazardly around the doorway: Shelby!
I take off like a demon, every curse word I
know tumbling from my lips.
I realized it just in time. The street Im on?
Sterben Street. The reason this part of town
is abandoned? Wesley Strice was murdered
in one of these houses 20 years ago. And four
other girls have gone missing since then. And
now, my stupid, awful, stinking dog is inside
that very house.
I slow down reluctantly, failing in my attempt to not shiver in the gust of cold October wind. In front of the overgrown lawn,
ivy-choked brick walls, broken windows,
and gaping hole in the wooden door, tufts of
golden fur visible on one edge, stands a rusted
mailbox that shrieks as the wind jostles it.
There, clear as day, is the number: 5666. Wait,
I think to myself, in the papers wasnt the
number 1, not 5...?
I groan outwardly, as if I myself were a
troubled spirit haunting the crumbling road.
Shelby? I call out tentatively. Shelby!
Eek! I squeal as Shelby bolts out from
the house, howling like a furry banshee with
its tail caught in a meat grinder. She crashes
into me, spinning me around and getting the
leash caught around my wrist.
Aaaah! I yell as she continues barreling
down the road with me in tow, trying not to
fall and break my neck then again, death by
evil spirits sounds a lot less desirable, and at
that moment I decide Im not so mad at her
for running.
Finally, after much screaming, stumbling,
and avoiding collisions with brick walls,
Shelby slows enough for me to tug mightily
on the leash and bring her to a complete stop.
Shelby! I swat her little black nose accusingly. What did you see in there?
Her dark brown eyes gaze into mine, usually so warm and happy. Now, they seemed...
knowing. Scared. Shelby? I kneel down
so her doggy breath is right in my face. She
whines. Sweetie, its all right. Just never,
ever, do that again. Okay?
Her tail thumps against the ground, as
if shes saying, You dont have to tell me
twice! I smile for the rst time since she
took off. Were going home now. I take her
leash rmly in my hand again, and the two of
us start our brisk stroll back to the safe side
of town. The gray clouds blanketing the sky
nally give way to tears, and before the rst
drop falls, the wind sighs into our backs
Such a cute puppy...
Youre guilty
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
You dont have to lie,
I know it was you.
I know what youve done,
and you do too.
This isnt funny;
so why are you laughing?
My feelings have become numb,
and my thoughts are splashing
against my skull.
This empty pit you created is dark and dull.
What have you done?
You told me itd be fun,
but now Im seeing the consequences
as I slowly lose consciousness.
This eternal hope I had
has shriveled up to a sad
handful of nothingness.
Your lie is burning me,
blinding me,
killing me.
I know what you did,
what youve done.
How do you plan to outrun
this one?
You are doomed, yet so am I
because I let myself get caught in your shallow lies.
Lost souls
BY GENEVIEVE DAVIS
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy, St. Albans
You dont have to lie,
I know it was you.
You dont have to lie
because I was there
and I heard you cry.
I watched you scream.
I lingered my face into your dreams.
I prayed for you to nd happiness
when you begged for death.
I held your heart in the palm of my hands
when you asked
and I squeezed tighter when you reached for
it back.
I wanted your compassion,
your beauty and faith,
so I gave you what I had instead
to keep the qualities I desired in you.
I have forgotten about the rst day of summer.
Oh my dear, I remember it all too well.
I told you I hated life.
You smiled and said,
I often concur but we make do.
A silent outstretch of words.
Well that doesnt make sense
but I suppose that maybe it does
for I had hoped to make you happy with
words so wrenched.
36 COLLEGE STREET
MONTPELIER
More details and registration
at youngwritersproject.org
NEXT PROMPTS
Winter Tales. Tell a story about your
experience of winter in short descriptive poetry
or prose. No
clichs, please.
The best will
be selected
for presentation by the
Vermont Stage
Company
at its annual
Winter Tales production at FlynnSpace
in Burlington in December. Alternates:
Lyrics. Find a line from a favorite song
that inspires you/ excites you/ makes
you feel good, and use it to sprout a
poem, song or story; or Photo 4 (above).
Due Oct. 31
The Drop
BY HALEY NOEL
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
It is time for me to change
brilliant green to extravagant red.
My other friends change too.
Slowly,
we turn to reds and oranges
so vivid
its almost as if
the tree has caught re.
This time of year
is bittersweet,
like the sap from my tree.
People come from all over
to gaze at us in awe.
I love to see all the people,
the small ones,
the big ones,
the young ones,
the old ones.
It makes me feel important
knowing that all these people travel
just to see me.
The happiness
doesnt last long.
This time of year means
the Drop.
We utter to the ground
like red and orange butteries.
We become part of the earth
again.
I dread the Drop.
I have made so many memories
with my friends
on this tree.
From the mud season,
when our tree provides sugar
for the people to feed on,
to the warm season
when gentle breezes
tickle our stems.
I will miss it.
I know that it must be done
to complete the circle.
I will come back as a sapling
someday.
But until then,
I must let nature
do what it does.
CELEBRATION OF WRITING
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MONTPELIER
BY LAURENT GAGNE
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
YWP NEWS
BY JUSTIN DAIGLE
Grade 10, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
THE VOICE
Next issue coming
Oct. 22!
Go to youngwritersproject.org to view
the magazine and
subscribe. Its free!
NEXT PROMPTS
Letter. Write a letter to your mother,
father, a grandparent, teacher or favorite
person to say thanks for something
special they do, or for everything.
Provide a specic story to show why
the person is so great. Alternate: Habit.
Think about a bad habit you might have
and create a character with a similar
bad habit. Write about why the character wont easily give up the habit.
Due Oct. 24
BY KAYLA MCARTOR
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Joyce, are you okay?
I snapped out of my reverie and looked
blankly at my friend. Wha...? I managed.
She snorted at me and tossed her hair, causing it to ripple like a golden waterfall in the
street light. Unlike mine, which would probably look more like a mud pit went cannibal
then barfed on my head.
You were spacing out again! You know, I
took you to the mall so you could relax, not
get even more uptight.
I paused before answering her. We were
almost to her car anyway, the perfect shiny red
Ferrari with these expensive God-only-knowswhat-famous-engineer-designed-them tires.
I mean, even though it was dark in between
the evenly spaced lamps I could see the sleek
glint of chrome. And they were white, for crying out loud.
Sorry, I said nally. Im okay, really.
See you tomorrow.
See ya!
I clenched my teeth as she clicked her way
to the back and tossed in her bags full of Victorias Secret and Lands End.
Gripping my one little item from Target, I
continued slogging over to where my sad little
minivan was hunkered down.
Ah, there you are.
It looked just the same as usual, dinky little
hoola dancer on the dash, Nebraska plate
slightly rusted around the edges. Not even a
little happy to see me.
My throat felt constricted, but it might have
just been from the hot peppers that had been
on my taco salad. Slowly, I reached my hand
into my bag and pulled out my big buy of the
day.
Thats a very beautiful necklace.
I jumped and whirled around to see who
had spoken, my ngers automatically closing
around the cheap little silver heart pendant.
It was a young guy around my age, maybe
18 or 19. His dark chocolaty hair was partially
hidden by his hand, as if he were embarrassed.
Yet, his smile was condent and warm. Uh...
thanks? I offer lamely in response. What was
the point in trying anyway? He was obviously
out of my league.
When I checked you out, I didnt realize
you would be wearing it yourself.
My cheeks got hot. Checked me out...?
My wide eyes blinked, and I realized he
was wearing an employees uniform for
Target. He must have been at the register, and
I was too dull to notice him then. His name
tag read, Marvin. Oh, um, yeah, its, uh, for
me. I paused. Marvin.
He looked surprised momentarily, then
glanced down at his shirt. When he looked
back up, his grin was lopsided.
Guess theres no use introducing myself
then, huh?
I chuckled in spite of myself.
Guess not. Im Joyce, nice to meet you
Marvin. Hey, what did you mean when you
said you thought I wouldnt be wearing this?
I asked, dangling the necklace in front of me.
Marvin blushed and looked at his sneakers.
Oh, well, youre just so pretty, I thought even
that necklace would pale in comparison.
A horn blared in the distance. From start to
nish, I was speechless. Marvin stammered
on, D-do you want help? Putting it on?
I glanced over at the empty parking space
where the perfect red Ferrari had been. But it
was gone now.
Yeah.
I smiled at him, holding the hand with the
necklace out.
And you know what?
He took it.
CELEBRATION
OF WRITING
YWPS KEY EVENT
OF THE YEAR!
SATURDAY, NOV. 8
9:30 A.M. 5 P.M.
Writing workshops
Millennial Writers on Stage
Reception
Release of Anthology 6
VERMONT COLLEGE OF FINE ARTS
MONTPELIER
More details to come
at youngwritersproject.org
Beth
AND NOW AT
BY ELIZABETH MAGNAN
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy St. Albans
Racing through the air,
carried by silver wings,
a memory of happiness.
Mourned by those
she left behind.
YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
VPR.NET
VTDIGGER.ORG
Exulted by those
she joined above.
She forever lives on
in the hearts of those
she touched.
Check it out at
youngwritersproject.org
Grey shirt
BY GENEVIEVE DAVIS
Grade 11, Bellows Free Academy, St. Albans
I should throw away this old grey shirt
that sits day after day in a wooden drawer
collecting dust and wasting space.
I should fold it up and place it in a bag,
give it to a second-hand store,
a child wearing torn blouses,
or use it for a rag.
I should really stop wearing it to bed.
I should stop smelling you or feeling you.
For that matter,
after countless washings,
I should throw it away.
I should erase the last part of you,
rid myself of distress and memories,
become vacant.
I should throw away your effect on me,
the last control you have over me,
so I wont be washed over with weakness
when I see your face.
I should really throw away this grey shirt
when its the last thing
I have to hold on to,
an old comfort that doesnt bring much comfort
anymore.
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NEXT PROMPTS
The inevitable
YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
YWP INTRODUCES
BY JULIA REMILLARD
Grade 9, Bellows Free Academy, St. Albans
THIS WEEK!
Believing in reality
The inevitable
a thing of beauty and wisdom,
but also love and lust,
of loss, pain,
guilt and trial.
Yet we all must know to trust,
because the inevitable,
though beautiful and ragged,
is innite.
YWP NEWS
Over again
BY ROSIE BIBONA
Grade 8, Faireld Center School
If I sat down
on this scratchy grass,
would you sit with me
and let everything else disappear?
Can we just stare at
the stars and bask
in the moonlight?
Could we share our
deepest, darkest secrets
without any fear of betrayal?
Can we just forget all
that there is and just be?
Is it possible to show
my terrible doings
without judgment?
Or would ignorance
rear its ugly head,
and I am cast into the
pile of unworthies?
Should I put my trust in you?
Or am I supposed to dive
back into my reserve of
emotions and not share
with anyone?
Can I share with you
my worst fears
and greatest memories,
and know that youre listening?
Lets relearn each other,
start from the beginning.
Can you look at me
from a new perspective
so that I can start over again?
(This poem was written at the end of the 13-14
school year.)
Complicated. Your life is complicated, and some days, theres just one
mess after another. Describe one of
those days in detail it can be funny
or tragic. Alternates: Leaf. Write from
the point of view of one leaf on a large,
colorful maple tree; or Photo 2 (Write
a story or poem based on the photo
below). Due Oct. 3
Room. You have a chance to redesign your room from scratch with no
limits. What do you do? Alternates:
Lie. Use the sentence, You dont
have to lie; I know it was you, in a
poem or story; or General writing.
Your best piece in any genre. Due
Oct. 10