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Prompt responses due Friday

14. Procrastination. If you had more time, you’d be able to put it off longer. What do you put off to the last moment? Why? Tell a story about how you just barely got something done in time – or didn’t.
Alternate: Splat! Use that word in a story or a poem.

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Rice Memorial

On Winter and Friends

The swirling wind whipped my snow-flecked hair around my face. The icy wind stinging my cheeks, the cliché fulfilled. I tugged the itchy scarf from around my neck and stuck it in my snow-filled face; I was cold, but not enough to endure the nasty itchiness that is the wool scarf. I looked to my left, and saw the dormant, frozen trees that lined the road. I turned the other way and saw a pair of beautiful brown eyes staring at me from behind a balaclava. I grinned as I looked into Jonah’s eyes, knowing, from the crinkles in the corners of them, that he was smiling too.

What do I wait for?

What do I Wait For?

By Kaylah Sharpe
Rice Memorial High School, Grade 9

Every year I wait.
I wait for warm, cozy fires;
for a blanket of snow on the cold ground outside.
For songs of joy and merriment to fill the air,
like rushing water filling lakes during a flood.
A tree adorned with colorful decorations.
Lights twinkling cheerfully on the mantle.
I wait to see children outside running up a hill,
carrying their bright-colored sled with them.
The smiles they wear when they go down the steep hill,
accompanied by many screams of delight.
The making of a snowman,
dressed in a furry, wool hat and a matching scarf.
I wait to put on my best clothes and go to church.
At the mass, a small manger set up in front of the altar.
Wise men, shepherds, sheep, angels, Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus.
After mass, parents hand out candy-canes;
the red and white stripes taste of peppermint.
At the house, I wait to make cookies;
sugar, chocolate chip, and gingerbread.
Hands reach for them eagerly.
I wait to set some chewy cookies aside for an expected guest.
People gradually wander upstairs to their warm beds.
Listening in bed, the clock chimes twelve times.
Slowly, people drift off to sleep,
almost like zombies;
dreaming of the next morning.
I wait to wake up early,
run downstairs excitedly, and see what I’ve been waiting for.
Presents, wrapped in red and green paper,
sitting under the beautiful tree.
Stockings hang on the fireplace,
stuffed with goodies and treats.
Everyone laughs happily,
as if the day will never end.
I wait for joy that the Christmas spirit brings.

The Box

The Box

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