General Prose

When you laugh
When you cry
When you sing
And when you sigh
Someone fights for that.

When you scream
When you sob
When you dream
When your heart throbs
Someone fights for that.

When you talk
And when you listen
There’s a clock
That is ticking
For someone else
Who’s fighting
For you.

You should fight for them.

The Mansion at MLK and Pearl
Noa Urbaitel - Grade 6 Charlotte Central School

It was dark. Small cottony clouds flitted over the full moon and the wind whistled through the trees. My friends and I giggled as we walked down the street in our costumes. Our footsteps made a squelching noise on the wet pavement. “Ooooh. There it is!” my friend Mary teased. We laughed some more and scurried past the big creepy mansion on the corner of Pearl Avenue and MLK Boulevard.
“Trick or treat!” we yelled at the next house. We each got a candy bar and we went to the next house.

Snowy Night
The snow was falling hard that night. I knew it would be a good way to catch him off guard. He was walking back to his apartment from one of wild parties on campus that he always went to. I hate everyone that goes to those parties. They all think that there so much better than everyone else but he’s the worst. He walks around like he is the most popular guy in the world. I hate him. He has always treated me like I was a nobody. That will never happen again. I have stopped him.

The Slogger
by: Gabe Nelson

‘I can’t wait for lunch time!’ I thought hungrily. We were at Mountain Biking Camp in Williston, and my stomach was grumbling.
We got on our bikes and started following Nick down a trail. After about one minute of riding, we came to a big hill. ‘Whoa!’ I thought. There was a ton of mud at the bottom of the hill! It had tracks with muddy water in them. It also smelled.
“I don’t think mud is the only brown stuff down there guys,” I said jokingly. My eyes were wide and I was trying to smile.
Nick started to go down the hill. A couple of kids followed. “Wahoo!” some kids yelled as they were going down.
It was finally my turn. I was near last with about three other kids, Mike and Will (two of the counselors; Nick was the third).

To me, the best time of the year for weather is in the first part of the summer. It's the time between the later parts of May and into the beginning of July. Around this time the sky is beginning to turn blue more often.. The days are getting longer. The buds, and birds in the trees are starting to reappear. There is a constant cool breeze all around, and things are starting to happen outdoors and not inside them. This is why I think it's so special. It seems around this time the harshness of winter is thawing away, and it is a fresh start for everything. Plants and faces are starting to show their color once again, and the faint sound of a lawn mower in the distance brings notice to the summer changes. Children are running, splashing, having fun without a care in the world. Though the day doesn't stop as soon as the sun goes down, no, the parties go long into the night.

Bats
By Ryan Liebegott

When I was still in pre-school, I could go to my Grandfather’s house most anytime I wanted. The school day was so short my family could drive down there to his house in New York and still get back in time for the next day of school.
In the evening we would just hang out by the pool and relax. The water was cool and calm, no yelling or screaming like during the day. Just peace. When it got dark enough we would go inside, have some ice cream, watch television and go to bed.
I would go outside with my ice cream and watch the bats. Sometimes my grandpa would come outside with me but my Dad was busy, and my Mom and sister were afraid of bats, so I could sit out there alone with nobody bothering me.

Away

We have to talk.
I'm sorry.
We really need to take
Some time.
away.
How many times do I have
To say...?
Time away.

Just pack up your things and get
gone today.
Need I say... away...
Please,
stay away
just go
Please.

Do I need to repeat?
Just go away.
Letting you go was okay.
but
Need I say...
AWAY.
AWAY...
away...
Just go, today.

Winter Season

Winter is
a beautiful season.
Snow sparkles
under the beauty
of the silver moon.
Night is only improved
by the glistening
of the fresh
gleaming
snow
flowing down
from the heavens,
as silver stars glisten
in the distances
like guides
to the snow flakes.

Dustin Crowningshield
11/7/08

A Squirrel Story

By Eliza Lee Thomas

Chapter One

The Idea

One early March morning, a shivering squirrel sat under an oak tree. There was a cold feel to the late winter air. His furry coat was damp with dew. The squirrel had injured his leg when he last hopped out of his hole and could not climb. As he sat there, the squirrel thought about other squirrels in their warm houses playing. His house was in the oak tree that he was sitting under. The hole was five feet above him and his leg hurt too much to make the climb.
Suddenly, the squirrel’s ears popped up – he had an idea! Thinking it through, he talked to himself, “Well, I have seen children play in treehouses and there are tiny steps for them to climb up. Maybe I could make some steps! OK, I will start soon. But first, I will need to check my sap cup.”

Squirrel Talk via Butternut

By Damian Coburn
Chelsea Public School, Grade 12

The love affair between the cats in the closet and her hunky gray lover started one December evening when I was wrapping presents. I had a feeling that there was another critter present in the house. But I thought that from the last time I had a critter in the house (a red squirrel that was maliciously murdered by my neighbor's barn cats), any or all outdoor creatures would stay outside and not knock at my door at two in the morning. My prediction was correct and the critter present in my late 17th century house was another red squirrel. Talk about having nuts.

Savvy

By Braeden Hughes
Westford School, Grade 8

The acceptance
set deep in the iris of your dark,
tired
eyes makes you beautiful.
You sit with dignity,
unfazed by the roughness
of the road
or the condition of the overused bus.
I sit beside you
trying my very hardest
to accept,
as well as you can.
Two bananas rest in your crooked,
sun spotted,
gentle hands.
It has been hours
and your fruit has remained
untouched.
I presume you have intentions
beyond yourself.
In my lap lay cookies,
a treat but not a luxury.
I slowing take one out of its
wrapper and offer it across the aisle.
Silently you turn toward me,
your aging face braking into a smile.
You reach out your hand,
accepting my small act of sharing.
You nod ever so slightly and I believe
we understand.

The Sun

By Emma Redden
Leland and Gray Union High School, Grade 11

The sun illuminates the lines
on your beautiful face.
They mark the day you married
your precious husband,
and the day,
twelve years later
you had to say goodbye to him.
They mark the pains and sorrows
life has crumbled in you path.
They mark the laughter that
has filled you home for
so many years.
They mark your children,
all of them,
who have gone from needing
your unrelenting care
to being the source of
strength
that keeps you going.
The ribbon that holds you to all
of us is stronger
than it ever has been before.
The ribbon that holds you together
is fraying every day,
no matter
how hard we try to
repair the edges.
You smile up at the enormous
offering of light
and a silent tear fills your eye.
Everything seems more
enchanting when you realize
that even if it rises every morning
for the rest of eternity,
you won’t be there to feel its warmth.

Charlize steered across the hospital parking lot, stopping for some pedestrians that were crossing. She found a good parking space not far from the entrance, but as had become the ritual, she stopped for a moment to meditate. She thought sadly back to the better times, before Ava’s bad habits had become too inflated and serious. She never had heeded anyone’s advice, and soon she was vanquished, bedridden, and trapped beneath those gaudy sheets in the hospital room. Sighing, she exited the van and walked laboriously toward the entrance. The hospital, despite its peculiar smell, was cosmopolitan, and oddly she was relieved that Ava had made it here, of all places. Lost in thought, she realized she had come to the patient’s room, and quietly opened the door, sliding inside. She looked at Ava’s wan features; Ava’s face so akin to her own. The IV pulsed beside Ava’s bed, transmitting the vital vitamins to her blood.

I Am The One

I am the one who will see you for who you are.
I am the one who will be there for you when you fall, always helping you stand tall.
I am the one who will make you laugh when nothing else works.
I am the one that will be there for your cry from pain, emotionally and physically.
I am the one who will make you feel confident and strong.
I am the one who will see your dreams as possibilities, and not something unrealistic.
I am the one that doesn’t care about your abilities, disabilities, race , gender, or anything that people will not accept.
I am the one person who is your best friend.

I miss those days before it all.
I miss the feeling of summer coming in and our barefeet
(Yours and mine)
Sinking into the damp grassy soil
To embrace another perfect, whirling day.
It was just us.

And now we are not us.
We are me

And then there's you in the corner
Pretending not to care.

Smile if you want to.
Cry when you need it.
(Please. For Me.)
Admit to me you're sad and angry and scared of what's to come.
Admit to me you're sorry.

Put out that cigarette on the splintering fence post, and together
You and me
We'll watch the smoke make silver circles around the rotting wood.
Together we'll watch
Until the glowing neon tip dissolves to ash
And then we'll walk
(Take my hand)
We'll walk back down the gravel in our bare feet.

We'll walk home together
Whether you want to or not.

It's what we both need.

Eavesdropping

By Rae Ellis
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

The first time I take the bus this year it is November, and it's full. Everyone always seems to think that if they sit in their own seat when they get on then they will get to stay isolated for the entire ride, but they fail to do the necessary math which proves that there are simply not enough seats. Instead, what ends up happening is that you get a little blond bowl-cut seventh grader cowering on the very edge of their seat to avoid the crack dealer next to them. Luckily, I am neither, and even more luckily, I get my own seat that day. It is in the back of the bus, near a bunch of kids I have never felt compelled to associate with. I sit as close to the window as I can and do my best to block out the white noise around me.

For years baseball has been part of America, through years of problems baseball has been there and has always survived. It brought kids and adults alike together even if it were only for a few hours to cheer and watch the greatest players of that time. Whether it was Mickey Mantle, Lou Gehrig, Hank Aaron, Joe Jackson, Willie Mays, Jackie Robinson, or Ty Cobb, they came together and played, showed kids and adults why it is that America loves baseball. However, no more is enjoyment and being a good role model the ultimate goal.

Not Nalgene Bottle Script

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Story Time

My story is the story of my farthest memory. I remember when I was a toddler, and every Sunday morning after Church we would go to an Indian Restaurant on Elm Street in Woodstock, Vermont. The Restaurant was situated where the Off the Green Restaurant Pub was located, which is across from The Sunapee Bank. My parents told me that the Indian Restaurant was closed in 1995, meaning that I was two years old. What I remember, is that my family and I were in our 1990 Honda Accord wagon, oh and sorry I forget the trim. The next moment I remember is that I was in a baby chair getting fed by my mother, eating Rice Pudding. This is my farthest memory, and my First Story.

Alice was just packing for her trip to California, when Flash jumped up on the bed and almost pushed her off. She just smiled and said, “Flash you are so funny.” As she dragged her bag down her steep stairs, she saw Chase running after Dizzy. Just then, Flash bumped into Dizzy and went out of control; he hit the table that the $500 vase was sitting on. Quickly, Alice dropped her things and caught it just in time and placed it back on the table. Afterwards, she checked on Spike who was getting slapped on the face by Sting’s fierce tail. That’s when she saw Barker yapping at Sleepy and Bear to get up. She broke it up and went into the living room to get books. There, she saw Fero biting Flop’s ears and Connie growling at the woman on television. Alice turned off the TV so that the madness would stop. She got the books that she needed, refilled the food and water bowls, and called the neighbor to look after them.

Running over the thin, winding path through the deep mysterious woods, the long night was ending and the mist was beginning to stir in the early morning. The branches stung my face as I flew past them, my bare feet felt the tiny pebbles slide under them, I jumped over old rocks that seemed to have been there for centuries. The darkness emanating out from the woods kept me from leaving the worn trail--my skin tingled as the cold hit the tiny cuts on my bare skin. The salty air from the ocean surrounded me. I had been lying in my bed staring at my overpoweringly white ceiling, wondering about my life, what it meant, and what was going to happen. Labyrinthine questions flowed through my head, and I knew I’d be awake for far too long. Lying in between my sheets with the weight of my comforter on top of me, giving me a sense of security, I was alarmingly awake. Car lights zoomed past my window, as if each place they were going was an emergency.

Why You Should Never go to McDonald’s Again

By Olivia Powell
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Love like a Rose

By Jayla Brink
Spaulding High School, Grade 10

See that rose
In all its precious beauty
It grows from the ground
Buds and blooms
And then it dies
The longer you tend to it, however
The longer it lasts

See that rose

This is also how love goes

In all it’s precious beauty

Heart brake is like it’s duty

It grows from the ground

It leaves you saddened without a sound

Buds and blooms

All the happiness turns to gloom

And then it dies

It’s all made up of lies

The longer you tend to it however

Telling you it’s yours forever

The longer it lasts

Then becomes something of your past

Even if the love is true

Maybe we have something new

It’s nearly impossible to keep

Maybe we aren’t in to deep

The spark soon fades

Maybe this love we have made

And trust once there

Will last if we really care

Is completely gone

This love is are new dawn

Has it ever lasted, seems like never

We can make it work forever

It seems all wrong

Maybe we will sing a different song

Love is Wonderful

By Kayla O'Toole
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 8

If love is so wonderful
Then why do we fear it?
We wait our whole lives to find it,
But can so easily lose it.

We really don't know what we have until it's gone.
It only takes the power of one person to change your life for the better
Or even for the worse
One single moment can change the rest of your life forever

Life is a winding road that can end quickly.
We walk as far as we can
To find one thing
How wonderful love is.

She feels invisible to the world
No one around to understand
At night she cries
And all her happiness dies.

She hides everything from her friends
She pretends to be fine
She tries really hard
Bur her arms are still scarred

She is stumbling on the edge
Can’t decided to live or die
She slowly knots the rope
But waits and hopes

She tries to forgive
And hopes they will listen
Most runaway
Only one did stay

You make her life worth living
You show her true love
And she is very thankful
You are never hurtful

She is so in love
And you helped her
In everything you do
She never wants to leave you

Life of a Slave

By Taylor Arsenault
Spaulding High School, Grade 12

August 4th, 1860
As I look back on my life now, I realize how it could have been better. I was a slave from the beginning. My name is Jeffrey Thomas. My owner gave that name me. I was born on March 12th, 1820 in an old wooden shack on the plantation where my mother lived.

The earliest memories I have are when I was 10. I had no family on the farm that I lived on because I had been sold when I was 2 years old. My master told me that my mother died giving birth to me and that my father had been hanged for trying to escape from the plantation. I have no brothers or sisters that I know of. Not having any family has always made me feel alone, even to this day. I’ve never been able to become close with anyone. Growing up without any family had made me hold my feelings in and kept me alone.

Shot down

By Kyle Fowler
Spaulding High School, Grade 12

A Tree Story

By Travis Gearwar
Benson Village School, Grade 8

A lonesome tree stands at the top of a grassy hill. The wind whips around and the tree bows to the west. Sparkling dew covers the grass and fog consumes the area. Mountains cover the distant horizon. It is pleasantly cool out as the sun starts its journey across the sky. Little buds start to cover the tree. Soon it will be covered with beautiful green leaves. It is spring.
Deer graze under the shade of the tree and birds nest in protective branches. Squirrels chase each other around its trunk. The sun beats down on its leaves and the lush grass turns brown from the light and heat. It is summertime.
The leaves begin to fall and are tossed around carelessly by the wind. The sounds of a distant highway are faintly heard in the distance. Birds are heading south. Squirrels take acorns from the tree and run off, storing them in their homes. It is fall.