Burlington Free Press 2014-15

8/11/2019 Burlington Free Press 2014-15

1/39

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Isabella DeFeo, Colchester Middle School

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YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG

THISWEEK: General

YWPis supported by the gen-

erosity of foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize thepower and value of writing.

If you would like to contribute,please go toyoungwritersproject.org/support,or mail your donationto YWP, 47 Maple St., Suite 106,

Burlington, VT 05401.

Special thanks this week to

CHAMPLAININVESTMENT

PARTNERS

THANKSFROMYWPABOUTTHEPROJECT

YWPis an independent nonproft

that engages students to write anduse digital media to express them-selves with clarity and power, helpsthem improve their skills and gainconfdence, and connects them withauthentic audiences. Check outyoungwritersproject.orgto learnmore or contact executive direc-tor Geoffrey Gevalt [email protected]; or (802)324-9537.

Young Writers Project receives hundreds of submis-

sions from students across the state, and each week

including this summer the best work is published in

this newspaper, in The Voice, our digital magazine, on

vpr.net,vtdigger.org andcowbird.com. This week, we

present responses to the prompt for General writing.

Read more at youngwritersproject.org.

YWP NEWS& EVEN

TOWNFOREST

WRITINGCHALLENG

TAKEAWALKINTHEWOODS

VERMONTANDWRITEFORPR

Vermont has more than 300 town

ests and this year marks the centennithe legislation that started them all.

The Vermont Town Forest CenteCelebration, in partnership with YouWriters Project, invites young writerexplore these forests and write!

PRIZES:1st: $100; 2nd: $75; 3rd:All winners will also receive a 2016 pass to Vermont State Parks and willtheir work published.

HOWTOSUBMIT:Submissions min any format: poetry, prose, essay, land should be no more than 750 wor

For more information, go toyounersproject.org/forest15.

Kevin Huang, Burlington High Sc

Love reminds me

of the skyBYAVERYMCLEAN

Grade 10, Lake Champlain Waldorf School

When thunder lls up the sky each night,I think of you when the lightning strikes.The brightness reminds me of your eyes.

When the sweet scent of rain lls the air,I feel my ngers in your hair.They become sts at the memory.

When the clouds crack open and swallowme wholelike the thunder, you echo through my soul.Love reminds me of the sky.

TEENPHOTOGRAPHER

Send us your best photos forpublication in this newspaper andVoice!

Email them to Susan at YWP:[email protected].

CHECKOUTYWPSDIGITALMAG

THEVOICE

GETYOURFREESUBSCRIPTION

youngwritersproject.org

The outcastBYHANNAHFREEDNER

Grade 10, Homeschool, Vergennes

He trained his eyes to catch each copperglint inthe gutter, wedgedbetween the cobble stones, the thingsforgotten andleft behind. He watched redballoons, dropped from childrens sloppyhands, plummetto the clouds in which they cursed for eachwretched raindrop. They made wishes onshooting starsand birthday candles, on moments whenphotographswere snapped and smiles were taut, while

he made wishes on copper pennies, redballoons, andevery wild raindrop.

eping inLASTAATS

10, Burlington High School

oke up to a quiet house, no missednd no one around. It was odd, actu-ually my parents were downstairs

g breakfast or listening to the radio.though, I supposed they must have

o work early. Usually they wouldft a note, but today they must haveen. Oh well. No big deal. Id makesomething to eat.

e kitchen was oddly bare of provi-There was only one cereal box in thet; it was stale and half empty. Hadntm brought it from the grocery storesterday?hen I tried to turn on the stove toggs, it wouldnt light. In fact, when Ithe light switch in the kitchen, noth-

ppened. Had the bulb burned out dur-night? Why hadnt my parents xed

n they got up? Well, I could changeept ... there were no lightbulbs underk. There was nothing under theot the usual cleaning supplies ands, just dust.ay. This was weird. I stood up andon the faucet to wash the dust off

nds. Nothing happened. I twisted thefurther. Still no water. What the .. .?right, this was enough. I unlocked

l phone and tried to dial my dad, butl was canceled by a robotic voiceme my plan had run out. It was onlyd of the month; I had just paid myt week!ared now, I ran out of the house inamas, my slippers slapping on thelk. I found a pay phone, shovedhange in the slot, and punched in thers for my dads cell phone.g, ring, ring...Cmon, Dad, pick up!ello?ad! Its me, Jessie.ssie! Youre awake!

eah, look, somethings wrong atuse. The lights and the stove arentg, and someone stole everythingnder the sink, and my cell phonemehow got canceled!chuckled. Look, son, youve beenfor a while.eah, I woke up a little late, I know,ously...

h, no. Youve been sleeping for twos.uttered. Two months?! Thats not

ossible!elieve me, thats what your motherhought. But you went to sleep onst, and then you just didnt wake up.ew you were tired from nals, so

nt wake you. We actually movedyou were gone. The buyers are prettyent to move in; Im glad you nallyup.hat ... how ... I stuttered. I missed

hole months of my life?! Why didntake me up?oure a teenager. You need yourHe was being way too calm about

ot two months of it!on, calm down. Get a fresh set of, pack up your things and catch

o 32 Maple Drive. I ts the yellowwith the roses in the front yard.h my god, I muttered.e you soon.ammed the phone down anded my eyes shut. I rubbed mys, shook my head, and then turnedlked back to the house.


2/39

THISWEEK: Manual & General




including this summer the best work is published

in this newspaper, in The Voice, our digital magazine,

on vpr.net,vtdigger.org andcowbird.com. This week,

we present responses to the prompts, Manual: Write a

guide on how to be a human;and General writing.

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Dylan Sayamouangkhua, Burlington High School

YWP NEWS& EVEN

TOWNFOREST

WRITINGCHALLENG

TAKEAWALKINTHEWOODS

VERMONTANDWRITEABOUT

Vermont has more than 300 town

ests and this year marks the centennithe legislation that started them all.The Vermont Town Forest Cente

Celebration, in partnership with YouWriters Project, invites young writerexplore these forests and write!




Jack Whitney, Essex High Sch

SUMMEROFSTORIES201

Join YWP online this summer fodaily writing challenges like this oneTicks Me Off...: What really bugs y

List a few things that come to mind-pet peeves to social justice issues

There are prizes along the way! Aa fun community of writers who wanshare their writing with you and to ryour work! More details:youngwriteect.org/SoS2015.

GETYOURFREE

SUBSCRIPTIONTO

YWPSDIGITAL

MAGAZINE!


e singing treeDREYDAWSON

11, Essex High School

ned to the side,le piece of the leafy collages the roadwho travel it,

ad,with soupy caldrons,

with slimy amber swirls.ee sings to them all

within,ng mouth calling out,ling voice,

of famished songwithin,

the singing tree.

mo sapiens: aginners guide

LASTAATS


ngratulations. You were born intorld as a human being. You may8 percent of your DNA with a chim-, but its that other 2 percent that ledre, to this manual. So without furtherere are a few simple steps for begin-our life as part of the Homo sapiens.

ke everyone else. Resist the urge top your own identity or let your realality shine through. No one wantshat. If everyone acts the same andthe same and wears the same thing,

unction better as a society. Every-ll agree! Because everyone will be the same! Another way to word this

ep might be: squelch all originality.

orb yourself in technology. The funns online. Thats where you hearwhos-dating-who and who-wore-nd which celebrity threw shade atmous counterpart. Also the Kar-ns. Always the Kardashians.

ney is the answer. Got an essay dueeek that you just dont feel like? Slip a wad of cash to your friend

eyll do it for you. Want to get to thef the line at Disneyland? A couple oftly exchanged Jacksons will do thes there a tree in your way that youreo lazy to step around? Throw someit. Works every time.

polar bears were born to die. Sohe elephants and the tigers and the. Especially the whales. Remem-obal warming was made up byment leaders at a special top-secret

ence called How Can We Messnvironmentalists? The environmentt need to be saved. You need your aironing.

there you have it. Just a few tipsw to survive on this planet withoutg a total fool of yourself. If you wante sure you dont become a socialwho dies alone, please consult ourtles: Faking It: How to Act Like

are and Popularity: Lifes Onlyoal ($12.99 as an e-book, not avail-print because who uses real booksre?). Good luck out there!






AMYE. TARRANT

FOUNDATION

YWPis an independent non-

proft that engages students to writeand use digital media to expressthemselves with clarity and power,helps them improve their skills andgain confdence, and connects themwith authentic audiences. Check outyoungwritersproject.orgto learnmore, or contact executive direc-tor Geoffrey Gevalt [email protected] (802)324-9537.

READMOREGREATWRITINGATYOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG& THEVOICE


3/39

THISWEEK: Summer of Stories






VERMONTBUSINESS

ROUNDTABLE


YWPis an independent non-

proft that engages students to writeand use digital media to expressthemselves with clarity and power,helps them improve their skills andgain confdence, and connects themwith authentic audiences. Check outyoungwritersproject.orgto learnmore, or contact executive direc-tor Geoffrey Gevalt [email protected] (802)324-9537.






present responses to our Summer of Storiesprompt,

First crush:Write about it. Real or fctional.

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Grace Lu, Albert D. Lawton Intermediate School

YWP NEWS& EVEN

TOWNFOREST

WRITINGCHALLENG

TAKEAWALKINTHEWOODS

VERMONTANDWRITEABOUT

Vermont has more than 300 townests and this year marks the centennithe legislation that started them all.

The Vermont Town Forest CenteCelebration, in partnership with YouWriters Project, invites young writerexplore these forests and write!




First sweetheartBYALEXANDRACONTRERAS-MONTESANO

Grade 9, Burlington High School

Oh, how I loved the way his hair sparkledin the low light during nap time.And the way he played with me; it was re-ally sublime.Sometimes he would whisper for me tomeet him behind the play-structure,and he would tell me tales about dragonsand Pokemon.His dirt brown eyes reminded me of theworms we would collect,and the soil castles that we wrecked.He was a little bit smaller than me,but size doesnt matter; on that we agree.I had many play dates with him that endedwith us screaming.

But my mom told me that it was a trait thatwas not very redeeming.I think I love him, really I do.So I got down on one knee and proposedthat we get murryd, just us two.

(At least thats what I think youre sup-posed to say.)He hugged me real tight and I didnt likethat because he was covered in paint,

but we were getting murryd so I made nocomplaint.The next day during recess we exchangedour vows.We made Play-Doh rings,and our best man was my favorite worm(until the teachers took him away becausehe had germs.)After we were husband and wife,he took me to his little shed and told methis was our new life.I didnt like it very much so I stomped onhis foot.Me and Evan arent murryd anymore;he takes my things and makes me cry.My parents told me that sometimes thingsgo awry.I told them we tried being in love but itdidnt work out;they just laughed and said it was a start.I guess hes just my preschool sweetheart.

rry PotterPHIEDAUERMAN

7, Shelburne Community School

rst laid eyes on this beauty duringgrade as I began the best series in the I was sucked in. In my mind, I wasat Hogwarts.y rst crush was Harry Potter. Well, It sure if it was exactly the character,the characters, and the world so

fully painted.hile reading, it was as if someoneut a full body bind curse on me thatllowed me to turn a page.y mind was glued to the story with anent sticking charm.you dont love Harry Potter, I thinks something Siriusly Ron with you.e characters are so real; the adven-eave you awestruck.ere was no place Id rather be than

gwarts.nfortunately, I didnt get a Hogwartson my birthday. I was just a tiny bitpointed It wouldve been nice ifd couldve come and knocked downor exclaiming, Youre a witch,e.ut I compensated by reading the

again for the gazillionth time, oncehanging on to Hermiones every

e old books have now been de-d uncountable times by my olderand me, who is also in love with this.e books are a piece of history withof wear marking their pages.ge 227 of the sixth book has evi-of one of my many nosebleeds; page

f the second has a stain from when Id an unfortunate earthworm-avoredFlavour Bean into my mouth; and

urth, well, lets just say the bookd some Spello-tape to resurrect it.ut despite the fact that my sister and I

cite scenes by memory (Ive neverhese curtains. I set them on fre in

urth year...), I can still nd some-new every time I dive into these richtures.en today, I nd myself lost in the

world hidden behind the old, damp

y rst love will never be forgot-nd, like Snapes love for Lily, it will

ever fade.

e shotgun seat

AYLAMCARTOR10, Bellows Free Academy St.s

t really care where you areng as it isnt too fare to y

n or driveshotgun seat of your car.

MOREGREATWRITINGAT


Kevin Huang, Burlington High

SUMMEROFSTORIES201

Looking for a fun, creative projesummer? Join YWP online for eight of daily writing challenges like this o

Flashbulb:Pick a ashbulb memorythat persists vividly in your mind, duthe memory being highly emotional sequential) and write about it as if yoreliving it now. More details:youngwsproject.org/SoS2015.

GETYOURFREE

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4/39

THISWEEK: General writing






PHYSICIANSCOMPUTERCO.


YWPis an independent nonproft

that engages students to write anduse digital media to express them-selves with clarity and power, helpsthem improve their skills and gainconfdence, and connects them withauthentic audiences. Check outyoungwritersproject.orgto learnmore, or contact executive direc-tor Geoffrey Gevalt [email protected] (802)324-9537.






present responses to the prompt for General writing.

More at youngwritersproject.org.

MOREGREATWRITINGAT

YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.OR

Kevin Huang, Burlington High School

kill a changed man

GETHIBAULT

8, Charlotte Central School

ll, Im sure youre expecting me tomething rather signicant right aboutsomething lled with sorrow or furyaps the dull wit youve known mewever, let me tell you that what I

o say is not going to change anything,is not the nature of something asgly capricious as this. So do not get

d, spiteful or empathetically tearful.ill merely tell you of the tenuous

between the life and death of a man,pe and despair of someone that gotong the way of something quite easyw.I will not be brief or ambiguous. Il the truth and will tell it with utterlity. You see, I have simply grown disappointed, I suppose, in theand in myself. The dream that onceme has left; the excitement that onced my bones has died.image of seeing the world as ad place has been distorted by theat my doorstep, the ashing imagesens, and the constant shriek of warn-olving those nasty headaches I getpring. The chain of doubts that chal-my value of existence have grownnd have won me over miraculouslyh after being fed with condence tont of bloat. I once hoped they wouldbut instead, they started to oat.

course, none of this is your fault.d not do anything to harm me, asow. However, my last thought ofthat it is what you simply did notled the ickering inside of me tostutter and the odd glare cast overto become an omnipresent shadow.e as you stood by and patted me onulder and listened to my clangingof confession, I was not being saved

he tumultuous river sweeping me

ts path. What you failed to realizethe river likes nothing more than ance, and that is what you gave it, quiteusly indeed.t it is not your fault I ended up freez-is not your fault that I couldnt tell

was a drop-off point at the end of the. And I surely do not wish that some-d told me that there was; I merelyd someone to save me from it.u see, I was already wishing for awithout having recognition of it.

did I know at the time, this is whathe river turn at its devastatingly stra-ate: fast enough to keep me chokingw enough for me to just barely geth air to breathe.

Im sorry you must not under-Let me rephrase. I wish that someoned me that it is better to be drowningis to think you are breathing, onlybe thrown off the ledge at the end

accumulating current. To be simpler,someone had told me that dying ishan living without the knowledge

nge without the knowledge of theut who would tell me this? It is anally abstract thought to tell some-e me. I live in the country of theno one would ever dare to thinkomething like that here. Too dark

you live with a screen broadcastingd version of the Sun through your

w. Too odd and ... out of place. So

we were all so deftly fortunate note to worry about being burned, noer even imagined that life really wasto those who had the mind to see then in the sky.

Dad

BYLYDIAMOREMAN

Grade 12, Champlain Valley Union HSchool

Dad:a parent, a counselor, a role modelwho does all and gives all,underappreciated, taken for grantedbut a vital part to keep us functioninthe ever stable presence of safetywho never raises his voice,bestowing advice upon those who wlisten,patient and generous to a faultwith a constant smile on his faceand a story or joke to tell,who supports me in my endeavorsand taught me to forgivea blessing from God,the perfect imperfect fatherwho completes our family,who I couldnt live without.

The wind

BYOLIVERHALBERG

Grade 7, Endeavour Middle School

A patch of dustundisturbed in the moonlightlying on the groundsomewheresometime,anywhere you think.The wind comes softly at rst,gathering strength, shaking the treesslowly;their branches sway and shake.Leaves would fall and be carried offwasnt winter.The branches are bare, rattling like psion instruments,backing the soft rustle of the swirlin

It reaches the patch of dust,particles lift off like a rocket from a pad.They are exuberant in their newly fofreedom,dipping and swirling like snowakesblizzard.A shape seems to form inside the coswirling dust.Then something seems to shift, and ivanishes.The wind changes direction.It moves on.The branches stop moving.The dust oats to the ground, as undturbed as before,a moment in time, lost and forgotten

until the wind comes again.And when it does, the dust will y aThe natural music will resume.Time will repeat again.

I was surrounded by survivors wholived without thinking without knowing

of everything and anything that pains thehuman soul at the point of suffering and de-feat. Why? Because there was no point ofdefeat for them. The images of awarenessin my head and the omnipresent technicali-ties of never forgetting the nightmares:these were not human things to experience.So since my mouth and mind were human,I could never say anything or do anythingto save myself.

Henceforth began the pitiful processof calling to have someone else save mefrom the drop-off point I knew was there.Someone in the audience, maybe? Saveme, save me, I said. But the ears were notthere to listen. I was angry then. You standto watch, but you never really see. And you

never did see what the man drowning in theriver was trying to tell you. You never evencared enough to nd out.

Maybe I wish someone had told meabout these too: the words that are never

heard. The messages that are sent but arenever received. The letters that get sealed

but are never opened. I wish someone hadtold me that it is better for words to go un-spoken than for them to have silence echoafter them for all of eternity.

Yet enough of this wishful thinking.The change that I had hoped to inict onthe world has never come to be. The dreamthat I once held dear has simply zzled outunder my ngertips. The beautiful thingsI hoped to do will remain undone thefuture left for another. But in this last mo-ment, through my last mark on your minds,I only wish that someone maybe you will listen to me now. Because instead ofchanging the world, the world has chosento change me, and so in turn, I let it.

And my only thought now in this nal

movement of tipping over the edge of life is that I wish someone had told me thatunrecognized change is the only true thingthat can kill a man.

SUMMEROFSTORIES!

Writers! Looking for a fun, creproject this summer? Join YWP onfor eight weeks of daily writing chlenges! Write today!

Go to youngwritersproject.org


5/39

THISWEEK: Lists&General

YWPis supported by this news-

paper and foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize thepower and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please goto youngwritersproject.org/support,or mail your donation to YWP, 47Maple St., Suite 106, Burlington,

VT 05401.


JANESTRUST


Each week, Young Writers Project receives several

hundred submissions from students across Vermont and

New Hampshire. A team of staff, mentors and students

selects the best writing and images for publication. This

week, we present responses to the prompts, Lists:Make

lists of things you like and dislike; and General writ-

ing. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.

READMOREGREATWRITINGAT

YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG&THEVOICE

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Nate Ertle, Essex High School

retsGAILHARKNESS

7, Shelburne Community School

freshly picked berriesate pits of cherries.waking up early before the birds

e perfect combination of words.like chapped lipscar trips,

ke secrets and laughs I can have withends,ow days that never end.he smell of different lotions,when people chew with their

s open.like overly sweet thingsnoises like dings,

ke splatters of paint on a canvasood book with lots of chances.like nails on a chalkboard

versations that are awkward.like a messy or unorganized roomcomments when people assume.

delicious home-cooked meals,y family, I love head over heels.

Young Writers Project is an inde-

pendent nonproft that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites,young-writersproject.org, vpr.net, vtdigger.org, and cowbird.com. YWP alsopublishes The Voice, a monthly digi-tal magazine with YWPs best writ-ing, images and features. To learnmore, go toyoungwritersproject.orgor contact YWP at (802) 324-9537.

YWP NEWS

READTHEJUNEISSUE

OFYWPSDIGITALMAGAZ

THEVOICE

Go to youngwritersproject.or

to get your FREE subscription

(Dis)likesBYOLIVIAPINTAIR

Grade 9, Emma Willard SchoolHometown: Williston

THINGSI LIKE:

1) Ive fallen in love with the way rasounds on a tin roof as if it were angIt hurtles from the air, single and sepbut never reaches solid ground as a wIt splits and breaks and shines in thelight.Rain is like you, sometimes.

2) I like the mints on the oor of youspilled and scattered without a box,leaving dust and clouds of white to son the leather,bringing me comfort to know that yostill imperfect.

3) Words have always found me, forto love them.Theyve shown me to cast shadows,ettes; bring life, let it go.Theyve taught me to drown the trutthen teach it to breathe under water,taught me to make things bright.

THINGSI DONTLIKE:

1) I dont like how I cannot feel the which you are hurting,in ways that I will never have to hurtAnd I wish I knew how to give you mbliss.Im sorry I know joy while you seemable.Im sorry you werent given the preclife I was.

2) I dont like that I apologize for haness.

3) It was long before I learned to lovbeing,

before I held her like she was cherishI dont like that Im still learning,but sometimes hateis a predator of hope.

funnyTIEMATTHEWS

12, Colchester High School

nny how memories work.nny how memories become losthe surface until the slightest hint ofition brings it all back ... like a song,

mell or a taste.emories that happen in the now, theat dont seem to matter, those are

es that haunt you. The moments thatpass by, those are the ones remem-

ny...nny how the universe works.nny how much power we give upumstance and fate... Our lives areled by so many things, its insane toll it our lives.meant to be. Nothing is ever trulyto be; things dont just happen.s no such thing as fate and circum-Life is how we make it ... yet when

make it, we are so afraid of being ator the mess, we blame it all on the

ny...nny how people work.nny how easily peoples wants. Its funny how easily people can

nny how imsy and fair-weathered acan be ... its funny how easily they.y arent really changing. Its funnyhen a person decides they dont carere, their true colors show.s not funny ... not really.

funny how memories work. Itsny how our thoughts work. Its not

how people work.funny how a happy memory can

to a nightmare that wont stop haunt-

funny how the universe works.funny that humans are so afraid of

g something and making decisionsey leave it up to fate.funny how people work. Its not

how unreliable the human race hase. Its not.


6/39

THISWEEK: Happening


paper and foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize thepower and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please goto youngwritersproject.org/support,or mail your donation to YWP, 47Maple Street, Suite 106, Burlington,

VT 05401.


THEBAYANDPAUL

FOUNDATIONS






week, we present responses to the prompt, Happening:

Begin a piece with the phrase,I didnt know what was

happening at the time...

MOREGREATWRITINGAT


PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Kristina Pretty, Essex High School

the mirrorILYFOSTER

7, Endeavour Middle School

dnt know what was happening ate. I had simply been sitting at ourrm table, absentmindedly eating myPuffs (made even more avorfulmilk), distantly pushing the puffsin my bowl with my spoon.

nished breakfast and went to theom, putting my hair up in a messyil.oked in the mirror. It looked strange.

d strange.ddenly my reection smiled at me. I

up. It wasnt a good smile, not oneade you smile too. It was a smile ofess, of superiority, of knowing some-thers didnt.

asped in shock as my reectiond out. She was me. I was her, fromel eyes to the frayed jeans, exceptr eyes were strange and catlike withr pupils. And her/my mouth was stillsame sneer.ddenly she grabbed a stful of myshrieked as she pulled harder.e shoved me back into the tub andto ll it up. Oh, my gosh, shes go-kill me; she wants to drown me,It, panicking.

e shoved my face into the water. Ied against her, grabbing her arm andher in. She screamed my scream

acked away.oked for something to ght herhere was nothing, except the mirror.d towards it, but she blocked me,, as if she was guarding it. Whyshe using the mirror as a weapon? Ired.hought struck me. If she was fromror ... maybe breaking it would kill

a burst of strength, I shoved herthe mirror, breaking it. It fell off the

hards raining down onto the blackhite tiled oor.e screamed. Her eyes went black. Id away, shocked. Her body began toand she soon was gone. Then there

ack.oke up, a throbbing pain in my skull.

p, clutching my forehead, and thenup. It must have been a dream, It.en I noticed something: a brokenshards on the oor.

d my reection just wasnt there.



Love is deadBYALEXANDRACONTRERAS-MONTES

Grade 8, Edmunds Middle School

I didnt know what was happening atime.But when he came back, I knew his cHis weeds are growing inside my heAnd my thoughts are being misled.I take back the things I said.Then he smiles and he sayshe wont leave me ever again.

But I know when the night is spreadhell be gone before the sun has bledSo I dance with him until hes ed.And his wake whispers the words,Love is dead.

YWP NEWS

COMINGJUNE1!

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THEVOICE



I didnt knowBYLUKEARENAS


I didnt know what was happening atimewhy she was acting that way,

why he was acting that way,why there were even ghting to begiI just wanted it to stop.But it wouldnt,and I wondered if it ever would.They said everything was ne,that everything was OK.But they just wouldnt stop.Then he moved outand she cried.I cried.It felt horrible.But like most problems, we got overAnd she met someone new.I just hope they dont ght.

e stormTALEIGHNOBLE

8, Edmunds Middle School

t know what was happening at the

t know something so small and in-cant would make such a big impact.t think about the big picture at the

t think about important details,ie matters.t realize the chain reaction at the

t realize what the future would hold

was too late.t know. I didnt think. I didnt real-ouldnt have foreseen the storm thatcome.I should have.

Noahs museumBYISIDORABAILLY-HALL


I didnt know what was happening atthe time.

At rst, the easy shaking of dust fromwing tips and paws was drowned out by thelow murmur of the other patrons, quietly,respectfully going about their business withthe soft pitter-patter of their footsteps onthe hardwood oors.

It was barely a whisper, but we, thehumans, were enough to mask the entireawakening of Noahs Ark, using only ourfootsteps and the whispers of our respira-tion.

Cheep! Tweet! Rrrrr! Suddenly, thequiet equilibrium was broken, as the oldand woefully threadbare stufngs began toawake.

The slightest utter of a wing tip here,a miniscule shake of the head there, as theanimals began to rediscover their bodies,and test these new waters of motion after

nearly 100 years of solitude.They rose around me, those not impris-

oned by glass cases and mahogany book-shelves, shaking off the layers of dust andenjoying this newfound freedom.

Those encumbered by such troublesomeobjects scratched fearfully at the glass, at-tempting to free themselves.

Then, in an instant, the glass buckled,and a spider web worthy of display hereerupted, chips ying, as the creatures brokethrough.

It was like those moments in superheromovies where the good guys are stridingtriumphantly forward as a dramatic sceneof a burning city festers behind them withdramatic music playing in the background.

It was like evolution was happening infront of me, Noahs Ark assembled inside acentury-old museum.

This was quite possibly the scariestthing I had ever seen, and I couldnt even

begin to describe how happy I was.


7/39

THISWEEK: Stardust



VT 05401.


MGN FAMILYFOUNDATION






week, we present responses to the prompt, Stardust:

You explore intergalactic space and meet a voyager

selling stardust.Read more at youngwritersproject.org.

READMOREGREATWRITING


&

THEVOICE

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Kevin Huang, Burlington High School

e mission

LASTAATS


ance at the thermometer on mynd: 112 degrees. The heat on Casimaly unbearable on human skin andust winter.too dangerous to set foot upon the

during the summer months. The rstt to arrive here made that mistake,ey died of sunstroke almost immedi-But that was over 100 years ago; webetter now.

udge along the road, sweating underaps of my backpack. The Sheltero far, my armband tells me. I shoulde within the hour.l, Im not sure I can last that long.have one canteen of water left, andng fast, trying to keep up with theation seeping out of my skin.

quint down the road. The jagged redof the Selika Cliffs are visible in thee, contrasting the lavender sky.ser, though, I spot what appearsrickety roadside stand, composed

ntering boards and an old piece ofthat functions as a roof.ybe theyre selling something.its water. I grit my teeth and forceto quicken my pace.I draw closer, I make out a wiryeaning over the front of the stand. Aan; a female, by the looks of it.on rst glance, Casimians appearal to humans. Then you notice theings that set them apart, like theeir eyes are void of pupils, and howave small aps of skin on the sidesr necks which serve as gills that letve in water, as those in the coloniesh the Visian Sea choose to do.ello, I greet her in Casimian. Iveracticing my language skills, but Imy accent is still thick, and I oftene words at the tip of my tongue.

ey. She nods. She doesnt lookolder than me, but I know she hasly been alive at least ve times lon-n I have.ance at the hand-painted sign tackedtand. Youre selling Stardust?

e reaches under the counter and pullsmall wooden box, which she holdsinspection. Fourteen quorans a box.or ve.ish I had just opened by asking

had water. Now I feel obliged tofurther about her goods. Um, whatdo?

he usual stuff. Healing, beauty, resur-s.stomach drops.

id you say resurrections? As inng people back from the dead?e shrugs. The gills on her neck uttery.eah. Takes about 10 boxes for onean, but Id say for a human youd

eed one or two. If thats what youn mind.

thoughts of water have drained outhead. My hand moves swiftly to my, ngering my currency pouch.ave 40 quorans left. Two boxes ofst. One empty hole in my heart lledIsnt this why I decided to travel toa in the rst place?o summers ago. Black rain. Thevasion. The last time I would ever

. Two boxes of Stardust and I couldit all. But what was it that Noah

e? What was it he said, as I knelt atve and wept, when I asked him what

(continued next column>)



Id ever done to deserve this?He told me everyone had a mission.

He told me hers had been fullled. That Ishouldnt cry, because I should know shehad done what the Universe had told herto do. She was ready. Maybe it wasnt fair,

the way it happened, but it happened all thesame. What good would it be to bring herback, if her mission in life had already beencompleted?

I withdraw my ngers from my pocket,coming up empty-handed. I shake my headat the girl. No thanks. Do you have anywater?

white, hot stardust. Peanuts, shrunkenheads! All sold here for low prices!

I ran over to the vendor who was shout-ing Stardust!

Hey, kid! You lookin for stardust? Youcan get a pouch for two gems.

I dug out two gems and handed them tohim.

Okay, kid, heres the directions.You put one sprinkle of the stardust in

a cup of unicorn milk. Stir it around, thendrink it while making a wish.

Only do this before going to bed.When you wake up, your wish will cometrue. Oh, and if you dream about your wish,it will be even more powerful. You mustwait a month between wishes. No less.Okay?

He handed me the pouch.Thank you, sir!No problem, kid. Have a nice day.Hurry, the bus will be at the intergalac-

tic station soon. We dont want to miss it,

the ying unicorn said.

Meeting HugWufBYCHARLOTTEDAKIN

Grade 5, Cambridge Elementary Sch

Three, two, one ... blast off! I hboss yell.

I clench my seatbelt tightly and lback into my seat. I scream a little tobefore I burst into orbit I press a bunbuttons and then I ick on auto pilotrocket transitions from a bumpy ridesmooth and calm journey. I glance owindow and see a variety of colors ple, blue, black, white and a little pin

blended together. They look like the ern lights but prettier. I sit there in awstare into space, literally. Suddenly, a voice.

Wh-what? I question, whippinhead in all directions.

Are you there yet? my boss askNo, not yet. Almost, though, I

quickly.Okay, she replies.I give my head a little shake and

the rocket toward Saturn and I see a ette of a person, or should I say creaImmediately, questions race in my mit a real live alien? Will it hurt me, ifIs it ET?

I giggle at my silly questions andover to Saturn. I land and glance at talien. It has a strange appearance. It purple eyes that you cant stop staringreen antennas, a white bunny tail, pfeet, monkey hands, a pig nose, elf eand is about 2 to 3 feet high. I stare aconfusion.

Excuse me, maam, the alien spolitely.

Yes? I stutter.Do you want some stardust? it

tions.I dont know. What is your nam

ask.HugWufe.I laugh and stare at the stardust.

Is it edible? I say.Yes! it says in excitement.I stare at the brightly colored dusFree sample? asks HugWufeSure, I say with a smile.I inch over to the stand and try so

of the dust. It immediately makes evthing rainbow colors and smiley faceeverywhere.

Woah, I say, stumbling over stuthats not really there.

HugWufe laughs hysterically. Ptears fall from its eyes.

I work for NASA. I need a pictuwith you, I demand.

How about I come home with yalways has been a dream of mine to

Earth, HugWufe says.That would be amazing! I exclHugWufe and I gather its stuff

board the ship. We exit space and lanEarth.

Amanda, George, I would like yto meet my friend HugWufe, I tellchildren.

They stand there confused until HWufe comes out ...

Read this story at youngwritersproject.o

node/110017.

Stardust vendor

BYZANILEWIS

Grade 6, Homeschool, Burlington

Wow! I exclaimed. There are a lot of

vendors here.Yes, replied my tour guide, who hap-

pened to be a ying unicorn.We were passing by a cart when I heard

something: Stardust, stardust! Get your


8/39

THISWEEK: Manual



VT 05401.


THEBAYANDPAUL

FOUNDATIONS






week, we present responses to the prompt, Manual:

Write instructions on how to be a human being. Read

more great writing at youngwritersproject.org.

MOREGREATWRITINGAT

OUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Jo Munson, Essex High School

YWP NEWS



rson trainingLAFISHMAN

7, Endeavour Middle School

ll, hello there! You are a new person.me to person training. Its almost thenial anniversary of people training,the time we celebrate, you will be ad, well-trained human. But you needg for that ... so here we go!st, youre going to have to learn howyour arms and legs. This is easierlooks, kind of like riding a bike (youarn about that later.) Once you learn,ver forget. No triathlons, nothingat. Just a few steps.er youve mastered that, youre go-earn how to speak. You dont haveilingual (thatll come later, too.) Justbasics down. Nothing hard; its noto take you a century to do this. Alled is patience. Dont give up.w that you know how to walk andou are going to start meeting people.ill make friends. Its important tober that everyone is unique in theiray; not everyone is exactly like you.ce you know people, you can startg phone calls. You can call one per-you can do a three-way call (and you

note that a group of three is calledyou can add that to your list of new)hen youre on a phone call, you couldplans with a person at, say, a restau-town. You need to get there. So nextgoing to learn how to drive.ving is also like riding a bike. Once

arn, you will always know. But, itme, patience, and cautiousness toearn how to do it correctly. Its alar skill, and though you are bipedal,ed only one foot for both the gas andke pedals.ou go the wrong way, make a U-U-turn is basically a semicircle. Justure to do it in a safe place, and dont

thing.hen you get to your lunch with ayou engage in conversation. On

opics, you will unify; and on others,ll disagree. This is OK. Like we saideveryone is unique and is not going

ust like you.ll, those are the basics to being a. There are other things, but thats alle time for today.

body is perfectMADOWNEY


ng a human is hard. Im just goinghat out there.

ople expect everyone to be perfecthats physically impossible; nobodyect.ing as a human being is grueling,cated and inequitable, but alsoble and amazing. Its full of surprisesventure.oy the little things and make thef it. Life doesnt just come aroundYou need to work for things as a.e as a human being is a privilege andould try to enjoy it because life is

Still learningBYZANILEWIS


Hi Mom. Hi Dad, I say.Hi sweetie, says Mom.Youre fnally awake, Champ. C

grats, Dad smiles. Did you forget read your How to Be a Human and Everyone Like You directions?

Oh, Ill get that, I say as I run bthe stairs to my bedroom.

This morning Im tired and the ablood running through my veins doehelp. Im from a different planet in aent galaxy.

We moved to Earth when I was 1year. I dont go to school yet becausestill learning how to be human. HowI can do calculus in my head becausesucked the intelligence from a collegThat was about eight months ago ...

I grab my How to Be a Humantions and open it to the Morning Li

1. Get out of bed2. Yawn3. Stretch4. Go to the bathroom

5. Brush your teeth6. Rinse your toothbrush off7. Go back to your room8. Take off your pajamas (See the NList.)9. Put clothes on (See How to Dresa Human.)10. Go to the kitchen11. Take out cereal and milk (See HEat Like a Human.)12. Take out a bowl13. Pour cereal in the bowl14. Pour milk in the same bowl and some on the counter/table and say O15. Dont bother cleaning the milk u16. Put the milk and cereal away17. Bring your bowl to the table

18. Be sloppy and eat your cereal19. Dont bother cleaning your mess20. Say hi to your parents

READTHEMAYISSUE

OFYWPSDIGITALMAGAZ

THEVOICE



Being human

BYEMILYFOSTER


Step 1: Act casual. This is very important.Humans try to fnd themselves superior toeverything, so practice eye rolling in themirror.

Step 2: Read tabloids and believe them, butpretend that you dont believe them andthat you dont read them.

Step 3: Act like talking to yourself is crazy,but do it anyway.

Step 4: Forget things. Humans are veryforgetful.

Step 5: Every once in awhile, wear mis-matched socks. When questioned, throw

hands in air, saying, Everyone does it!

Step 6: Use big words occasionally, wordslike: bicentennial, centennial, triplicate andcentipede!

Step 7: Although I know it might be hard,pretend unicorns dont exist (even thoughthey totally do; except they only live onVenus, which you already know, being thewise alien that you are.)

Step 8: Act like adults were born a century

ago.

Step 9: Act like you hate math even if youdont. Dont ask why you do.

Step 10: Get into a sport like running. Thisshall be fairly easy, as you have amazingbipedal abilities. Say youre training for atriathlon.Step 11: Use Facebook. Make friendswith those you do not know. Even thoughthis is clearly against all rules regardingInternet safety.

Step 12: Try to ft in but say youre unique.

Step 13: Unify with a group of friends.

Step 14: Get excited over everything andanything. Whether its binoculars or Christ-mas, get excited!


9/39

THISWEEK: Photo 8


paper and foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize thepower and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please gotoyoungwritersproject.org/support,or mail your donation to YWP, 47Maple St., Suite 106, Burlington,

VT 05401.


JANESTRUST






week, we present responses to the prompt to write about

Photo 8.Read more atyoungwritersproject.org,a safe,

civil, online community of writers.

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Emma Parizo, Essex High School


pendent nonprofit that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites,young-writersproject.org, vpr.net, vtdigger.org, and cowbird.com. YWP alsopublishes The Voice, a monthly digi-tal magazine with YWPs best writ-ing, images and features. To learnmore, go toyoungwritersproject.orgor contact YWP at (802) 324-9537.

YWP NEWS& EVEN

DONTMISS

YWPSFINALPOETRYS

OFTHEYEAR!

YWP HEADQUARTERS

47 MAPLEST.

BURLINGTON

THURSDAY, MAY14 AT6 P

FREEPIZZA| FREEPOETRY

READTHEMAYISSUE

OFTHEVOICE!

SEELOCALWRITERSFEATUR

EVERYMONTHIN

YWPSDIGITALMAGAZIN



e scent of teaECUDNEY7, Edmunds Middle School

dont want to, I protested as sheme toward the door.

was an ugly door, covered ines and dents that someone had tried

er up with tapestries and chains of

oo bad, she said simply as shemy arm before I could run away.will be cool; trust me.asnt so sure. I had never been oneune tellers or predicting the future.

was all just a bunch of lies and tricksyour money, but this time I didnthave a choice. The woman was dy-d the only thing she wanted was to

someones future mistakes.pened the door slowly and walkede room. The floor was covered in anment of rugs. The room smelled ofe and window cleaner.e walls were lined with a dangerousnation of old volumes and lit candles.back corner stood an elaborate bed.ires jutted from each corner support-oof and glittering gold fabric.e bedspread was embroidered in a

w of colors depicting a scene of a. Elephants wearing tall hats carriedressed men in matching miniatureall trees filled with birds, and mon-ned the street.e elephant was topped with a bandl uniforms. Women wearing colorfulis and carrying bunches of exotic

s and fruits atop their heads lined theChildren darted around them, play-mes and gawking at the magnificentes.e woman in the bed was small ander papery skin was stretched tightly

er bones. She frowned when she sawf she was expecting someone else.inted at the table next to her where a

white ball sat.ck it up, she said. Nervously, Iup the ball. It was cold and heavy

hands. Suddenly I was falling. Myh felt as though it had been left be-was spinning through blackness, thewly growing warmer in my hands.

beginning to glow, illuminating theround me. A picture began to appear

y fall slowed. At first it was blurrycolored like an old photograph

en it came into focus. I recognizedger version of myself, skippingh my grandparents blueberry patch.pigtails bounced in time with my

d they landed on the soft grass. Thefaded and another one began to ap-

looked slightly older in this one. Inning through the grass behind mys house. My hair fanned out behindeworks exploded in the night skye bay, making the water sparkle withw light. A sparkler protruding fromnd spit flames behind me.e image faded again and this time itas though I was in college. I was

ng, my head tilted back, a pair ofg glasses in my hand. A pile of pa-rrounded me like the edge of a nest.age disappeared again.w I was carrying a gurgling baby onas I watered a flower bed. Slowly

ages blurred past me. I was openingts with three kids at Christmas, hold-other baby up toward the sky.the pictures changed, my haire grayer and I gained more wrinkles,so looked happier with each one.

(continued >)

The last thing I saw cameinto focus more slowly. Twowhite lawn chairs sitting on ahill facing the ocean. I couldhear seagull cries and thescent of tea tickled my nose.A warm summer breezeblew, making the grass shiftand sway. Two people cameand sat in the chairs; eachheld a mug in their hands. Icouldnt see their faces, but Iknew that they were smilingbecause happiness seemed toradiate off of them in waves.

Then it all went black.I opened my eyes to seethe carpet. I was lying onthe ground in the fortunetellers apartment. I pulledmyself to my feet andlooked down at her. Shewas asleep, her chest risingand falling with her breaths,a smile splayed across herface. As I walked out of theroom I could still smell thetea.

The glowing ballBYSOPHIEDAUERMANGrade 7, Shelburne Community Sch

My hands shake,uncertain,afraid of the unknown.Eerie blue light reflects upon my fac

ominous,emitting a warm pulse.The ball trembles slightly,decidingmy fate.The white clouds begin the move,tellingmy future.Images begin to form,cloudy,shifting as dark shapes begin to emeThe warmness disappears.Cold settles over me.My stomach is unsettled,nervous,afraid of what the ball will tell me.My clammy hands begin the slide,slipping.CRASH!Its gone, and my future goes ...unknownforever.

Photo 8. Melissa Morris, Essex High School


10/39

THISWEEK: Safe &Life



VT 05401.


NATIONALLIFEGROUP





selects the best writing and images for publication.

This week, we present responses to the prompts, Safe:

Where do you feel safe?and Life:What would your life

be like if a certain major event had gone differently?

MOREGREATWRITINGAT


&

THEVOICE

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Bri Lancaster, Essex High School

YWP EVENTS



Baseball or artBYKAYLEYHAYSGrade 8, Edmunds Middle School

I am going to catch this ball. I kncan. I can feel it. My arm is up high air, the ball heading straight down tomy hand, getting bigger in my vision

I squeeze my eyes shut. There arseconds left, both of our teams havinpoints. Suddenly, I feel the ball touchpalm; I give it a squeeze. It is now in

grip.My team triumphantly cheers me

the other team looking glum, throwiblue and red hats on the ground. I pihat and look at it. It is a nice color ofup close. It is like a royal blue with bred writing.

You dropped something.The kid who had purposely threw

hat looks back at me and laughs. I haback the hat and walk in the other ditoward my team.

High fives are everywhere; pats oback are hard; my cheeks hurt from too big and long. I am proud.

I know it isnt because Im good

baseball that I win the game and catcball. Its because I had courage. I didhave fear. I was excited. I knew that do it, and I had hope and pride in myand palm as I caught the ball with no

Baseball is my hobby.

My breath is heavy. My feet feel they are chained to a 600-ton block omarble. My hairline is covered in sw

I pant once more before running ball. I run as fast as I can in the balltion. My vision is getting blurry fromthe sweat. Am I going to be able to cthis? Will I be able to win the final 1seconds of the game?

We are tied against the other team16. Will I give or receive that final p17?

The ball is now closer to me. Themust be 10 inches from my face. Mygoes up to catch it, stretching my shoas far as I possibly can. With my swpalms, the ball slides out of my handtrundles away in the grass. I try agaimy other hand and fall down, still trycatch the ball.

The other team cheers. I throw mon the ground and jump up.

If only I had drunk more water bthe game? No. Maybe if I was actualgood at baseball, I would have caugh

But no, Im not good at baseball

Im only good at drawing circlescoloring in the lines on paper.

I was too panicky.Baseball isnt my hobby.

ant for moreLOEGRANT11, South Burlington High School

r mother used to tell her when sheung that she was meant for differentnd different places, where one pinkould change her mind and whateveramed in her compact mind couldrue.r mother would say she was meantwn-up men, not immature teenageho joked about her glasses on thebus. She was meant for a job in the

touch kind souls and break littleouls.

e was meant to tune broken pianosn the street and drink wine in the

b that watched over the city of and dances and a million insanities.e was meant for greater things.e was meant for city lights andn nights with the guitar boys whoer to sleep through hazy-dazed.

e was meant for small apartments atof large buildings, filled with mod-igns and little touches of home thatine in blankets that she would usehe was missing someone.

e was meant for the salt in the oceanade her eyes burn happily and booksd the right fairy tales.

e was meant for rainy days. She wasfor dirt under her fingernails andd cheeks stained from the cold.e was meant for glorious springs,rful summers, frigid winters andautumns.e was meant for red lipstick and skin-ktail dresses that hugged her waistve men a reason to call her honey.e was meant for greater things thanhool dances and football gamesshe never felt exactly right.e was meant for hats with ribbonsshi nights paired with beautiful

who made her feel like something.e was meant for fields filled withs to blow away seeds and makethat would never come true.

e was meant for beautiful sunsets ands, for she was always to be look-he world through a looking glassd with rose and wonder.e was meant for road trips wherend girls stuck their dirty feet out ofd windows and she would scream

ul lyrics to her favorite songs out toinous black world.e was meant for the smell of fireg and counting stars in the night skywatched her favorite blond-boy-friend smile in the orange-colored

e was meant for happiness and heartsk; she was meant for dreams andto play; she was meant for love

ne-suffocated temptations whereblouses ripped themselves off of pale She was meant for a world that shehave yet.r mother told her she was meant forure, for times ahead.e was meant for growling tides andy boys; she was meant for love and

e was meant for everything herdreamed of being, and everything

uld never be. And thats exactly howamed of her life to be.

Rustle of pagesBYLAURENHALBERGGrade 5, Renaissance School

I felt most safe and comfortable in mycloset in our old house in Richmond.

I would make a pile of stuffed animalsin my closet, where only I could fit with allof them, and sit on top of the pile with myfavorite stuffed animal, Meow.

I would have a good book, and I wouldfeel safe and happy.

It would be completely quiet, except forthe rustle of the pages as I turned them, andthe soft sound of my breathing.

I saw only the words and turning pagesof the book, and the movie of my book inmy head. I felt the stuffed animals soft fur,and the pages of the book.

Nighttime placeBYMADELINEEVANSGrade 8, Edmunds Middle School

Comforted,enveloped in warmth,and snuggled tight.A place where I can spend each night.A place to draw,to read,to write.A place to relaxwhen I dont feel alright.A place to laugh,to smile,to sing.A place to enjoy the simplest things.A place to see plastic glowing stars.A place to imagine peopleand places,near and far.A place to hold dreams,warm and dear.A place to have fun

with family and friends.A place to hold pillows,stuffies,and then,wait until light breaks the horizon again.

DONTMISS

THEFINALSLAMOFTHEY

YWP HEADQUARTERS

47 MAPLEST.

BURLINGTON

THURSDAY, MAY14 AT6 P

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11/39

THISWEEK: Tunnel & Idea



VT 05401.


PHYSICIANSCOMPUTERCO.





selects the best writing and images for publication.

This week, we present responses to the prompts, Tun-

nel: You find a tunnel. Where does it lead? & Idea:

Write about a seemingly bad idea that turns out great.

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

A.J. Combs, Essex High School

nnel visionNBUNDOCK

11, Champlain Valley Union

und a tunnel with golden moon-and unplanned decisions, and fromcked ceilings there hung capturedies reflecting against the glass of theed Coke bottle chandeliers.I walked, my dreams that paintedlls began to peel and curl away fromms and the rough insides of the tun-owing Mason jars illuminated thescrawling over my skin before fad-

e ink dancers in water. Though theyeared, I felt them still; they wereg for someone elses light to discovergain.he distance, a shuffle of feet echoedy heart, dragging me forwardh the darkening hall. The smell of

mon and ocean fell into my mindunnel narrowed, the coarse walls

ng my fingertips as I ran them acrossms of the bricks. And I stumbledy thoughts and the stinging of my, tripping over shards of broken, pushing the walls away, only toe floor.d then I found a hand, a smile, andreases next to young eyes. I found

ange familiar shuffle; comfort in an giggle I had always heard, even if itly been dream-painted on the walls.d a gait in a skip of heart beats I hadelt. I found a light to my tattoos; the

of sunscreen dancing in the heat ofn.in those irises that you ask yourself,

mean the world to you, dont they?whole planet could fall away, but

all youd see.was before those irises that Id nevered blind spots so large could be

by two small hearts.



ap doorYPRUSSACK


a warm, foggy day and Im walk-he crowded New York City streets

ng to the bustle of people as theyy.umble forward, bumping into thefront of me. He turns toward me, a

ook on his face.umble an apology and he spinsand quickly walks away.ok back to see what caused my

y stumble, and notice that the cracksidewalk form a sort of square.

an down and gently slide my hande cracks. I notice that the area insideare seems to be ever-so-slightlythan the rest of the sidewalk.

gging my nails into parallel cracks, Ihe concrete upwards. I fall back ontot and see that the sidewalk hasnt

d.m about to give up when I notice an

picuous crack that looks wider thant. I put my fingers into the sidewalknd pull. The square in the sidewalkrises before me, opening like a trap

ant help it; I lower myself throughorway. My feet quickly find the, and I drop down, leaving the busybehind. I look up to see the door

g above me, slowly lowering itself aten slamming shut. ...

e complete story at youngwritersproject.e/110438.

Bizarre triathlonBYOLIVERHALBERG


Once upon a time, there was a coprogrammer named Fred.

Fred had a collection of live centand another collection that consistedplastic unicorn statues. He was bilinand worked for a programming comcalled PurpleGreen Programming.

One day, he entered a triathlon. Ito get in, however, he had to fill out unique forms with lots of semicolon

had to be signed by a triad of peoplebarely knew, be stamped with a stamapproval by someone who only stamthings semi-annually, and then be filagain in triplicate.

Once all of that was completed, irevealed that the forms were the firstin the triathlon. Fred, who had comethird place in the forms event, wondwhat he had signed up for.

The second event was a birdwatcevent with binoculars. Fred did verythat, and came in second behind a prsional birdwatcher. The score sheet fbirds spotted had the usual daytime bthe area, but it also had:

Barn Owl (If you can spot one ofits probably asleep)10 points

Dodo (These are extinct, so you wneed proof and a event official to conthe sighting)100 points

Your Feet (These are not birds! Dtry to convince an official by throwinshoes off the cliff! You will not get thback!)0 points

After these weird contests, Fred could handle anything. He was wronnext contest was a randomly picked vidual event, where the contestants wput into individual rooms to attemptlow the instructions they would be g

Freds instructions were very straHe was supposed to unify the Union

Confederate forces. They turned outrelatively poor actors who obviouslystudied their lines, as they were holdscripts. He had to get them to agree osomething before they would move afrom a door. Once they moved awaycould walk through.

His attempts werent working, hoCome on guys, this happened o

a century ago! Now, can you just let through the door? didnt work.

Neither did, You guys should styour lines more! I can tell you didntice.

Finally, he was ready to give up,had one more idea.

Are you guys bipedal? he aske

Yes! said the Union forces leaderwas the only one of the actors who pattention to anything Fred said.

You Union people started this wthe first ... oh, yeah, were bipedal, the Confederate forces leader, chewhis obviously fake mustache.

Fred did a victory dance.Why are you dancing? asked th

Union forces leader.I got you to agree on something

yelled Fred.The actors sighed and reluctantly

moved away from the door, formingsemicircle as they watched him go toThe door was locked with an electrothat he had to program to open the d

but that was easy for Fred.When he got out, he was awarde

first prize medal. ...

Read the complete story at youngwriters

org/node/111597.

Only in booksBYSUMMERGRACE


Falling. Falling. Falling. I hit theground hard. I see nothing. For a mo-ment I think Ive gone blind. I havent. Isee a light in the distance. I must have hit

my head hard; I hear a loud, high-pitchedringing. I crawl down the jagged path.The ringing gets louder and louder until Irealize that the noise is not in my head, butcoming from the source of light that seems

miles away. I am too exhausted to move. Ilie on the cold, hard ground and fall asleep.When I wake, I see two eyes staring at me.I feel like screaming, but think better of it.There is no help for miles. I sit up. My eyesblur and my head spins. When my eyesfinally focus I see a beautiful girl wearing agown of water, shimmering beautiful water.

Forcing myself to stand, I feel a breeze.I look up. A troll towers over me. I feel his

every breath. I walk to the light. The tunnelopens into a bright, vast field. Everywhere Iturn, a creature appears, creatures I thoughtexisted only in books. Welcome, thewater girl says, to Anestasia.


12/39

THISWEEK: Vermont


paper and foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize thepower and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please gotoyoungwritersproject.org/support,or mail your donation to YWP, 12North St., Suite 8, Burlington, VT

05401.


THEBAYANDPAUL

FOUNDATIONS






week, we present responses to the prompt to write about

your Vermont.Read more atyoungwritersproject.org,

a safe, civil, online community of writers.

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Bri Lancaster, Essex High School



e time betweening and crocusesDORABAILLY-HALL


most people, Vermont is that prettysitting on your mantelpiece, theuse-colored fields, leading up to-racing-green mountains, with thelue skies overhead providing the per-ckground for that round barn on topuff. The picture practically screams,thing is perfect here!

th is, if youre living in Vermont,is a time when you want to run fors, but wait! Eeeek! The hills arethan the valleys!mehow, on March 1, mud seeps intocrack in the sidewalk and gutter byd. It can be found hiding under lastdead grass or mixing with a pile ofves and month-old, partially frozenop, left to be found when the snowmelts.d, mud, and more abysmal mud is

what Vermont is in the spring. Whennk that the end might be near, moreeps in, and you cant help but won-ere it all comes from.entually you just have to resign your-

remembering that we are the nationsge dump. I think we get enough mudwhole Northeast!th is, in Vermont we dont call this

f year spring, because we do have aring, but to bridge the gap betweenand crocuses, we add mud season.a fitting name for the time when

efines every aspect of our life. Thee mountains, the fields, everywherered in mud, mud and even more

key brown dust is constantly beingd from fingernails, rinsed from hair,hered vigorously off of arms andnly for the mud to come back in fulless than an hour later.hen naive out-of-staters claim that ita bit muddy today, partway through

one of our nicer warm months), wel our eyes and remind them, Dont

our soil like dirt because for all theaining, we love it. Mud is part of oure. Its just as much a part of us assyrup and cows.

untains, lakeMRYNMUZZY

5, Renaissance School

mont is hiking up a mountain, smell-

trees and feeling the joy of finallyto the top so you can sit down and

ch.mont is doing the Penguin Plunge:ng people cut a hole in the ice be-ts so cold; getting the tingly feelingbness as you rush into the water;rinting back to the tent where thereters; going with my family to get hotate to warm up.mont is skating on a pond until youe your toes are going to fall off, andacross Lake Champlain in my boathe Knot with my family, feeling thesummer air against my face as wecross the calm waters. Vermont isg a book at the top of a tree, smellingh leaves and grass, running through

kler with my friend, feeling the coldgainst my skin, and making forts inods behind my house. Vermont is my

Just becauseBYEMMABARKER


Vermont isthe susurrationof the orange plastic sledslipping over snow,barreling down the hillin the backyard,flipping sideways,and you coming upwith a new, white beardyou never knew you could grow.

Vermont iswatching the nationalice swimming competitionsjust outside your homeand shivering for the competitorswho somehow, inexplicably, love it.Vermont isrunning through the sprinkler,turning blue beneath the frigid waterlying on the hot sidewalk,steeped in sun,leaving a human-shaped wet patch,sitting up and brushing off tiny pebbclinging to your water-logged skin.Vermont isbragging to your family in Georgiaabout the 5 feet of snowand the negative-20-degree cold.Vermont issitting outside in the heat,Mom slipping out the doorwith a trayof sticky, sweet, raspberry Popsiclesto eat and dribble mostly down yourVermont isa giant pile of soggy leavesconcealing patches of sticksunder the bare treein the front yardand jumping into it anywayand laughingjust because thats Vermont.

In the midstBYGREGORYDAVIDLEVINE

Grade 11, South Burlington High Sc

In the midst of winter,a leaf hangs by a twigwhile others fall;the leaf hangs on,failing to break free of the arbors tiggrasp,and finally breaks free in the midst omer,shriveled and crusty,as its brethren,

budded and blossomed,soak the summer sun into their soulsAn owl flies by in the midst of day,a supposedly nocturnal creature,and mistakes the shriveled leaf for a shrew as it tumbles in the breeze,reminiscent of the rough hopping of rodent.Upon bringing the leaf back to its dethe owl sees through the shriveled crinto the worn, leafy veins,and drops the leaf beneath its majestand in the midst of winter,it blossoms,only to soak up cold, grey skies and frosty wind,with yet no sun,

as the leaf s brethren so solemnly slubeneath the blanket of snow that hasoped the wood.

My VermontFrom Grade 5 Class at Cambridge Elemen-tary School

To me, Vermont is a long dirt road witha silo and chipped red barn every coupleof miles and uncountable cows. There aremountains surrounding that road. In thedistance, infinite forest starts at the end ofthe field.

Vermont is waiting at the bottom of mydriveway for the bus in the cold before thesun even begins to come up...

ELIZAGOLDSWORTHY

Vermont, to me, is maple syrup. I gosugaring almost every day after school.I get there when its still light and leavewhen its dark.

We always cook hot dogs in the boilerand eat them for dinner, then go home toget our wet clothes off and get into ourwarm, dry beds. We sugar until the peepersstop peeping and the sap stops running.Then we go home and start a countdownuntil next year when we have to put a

pipeline over a big river and hill becausewe cant reach it.But before we leave, we have to ride

the snowmobile one last time. KARLINFOLEY

Have you ever been to Vermont? Itis the prettiest place I think there is. InVermont there are a lot of people who makemaple syrup; a lot of people farm; and weget a lot of snow I mean a lot.

CARLYHITCHCOCK

People always think Vermont is farm-land, but its not just that. In Vermont wehave great schools where we can learnwhat we want to do with our lives. Somepeople take it really seriously and end upas engineers. Some people end up in theOlympics. Vermont has crazy big moun-tains that I can snowboard down. In mytown, there is a place called SmugglersNotch where you can do anything, likeswimming or go on water slides. Vermontis a very nice place.

PHOEBELOOMIS

Vermont is a collage of colors. In win-ter, the snow is a fluorescent white and theblue sky makes the snow even more white.In spring, the ground is muddy and itscold with a hint of warmth. In summer, thesun is a bright yellow that pours all over

the green grass, and the trees leaves area deep green accented by a beige or whitetrunk with black flecks. Dont even get mestarted on fall. Fall is a magical time forme, its so vibrant.

CHARLOTTEDAKIN


13/39

THISWEEK:Secret &Supersilly


paper and foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize thepower and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please gotoyoungwritersproject.org/support,or mail your donation to YWP, 12North St., Suite 8, Burlington, VT

05401.


MGN FAMILYFOUNDATION




New Hampshire. This week, we present responses to

the prompts,Secret:Write about a secret people must

never know;Supersilly:Describe a seemingly useless

superpower that is hilarious.Read more atyoungwrit-

ersproject.org and YWPs digital magazine,The Voice.

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK

Mya Burghardt, Essex High School

YWP NEWS& EVEN

Dancing on the spBYZANILEWIS


The burglar was right in front of Halt! I shouted, my Spandex tightsqueaking. Stop or I will release thof my power on you!

Wow, the burglar said in a nonwow way, while flexing his six pack

What you gonna do, ballerina?I will make you face the fury of

Happy Song.You need some help, mentally?

asked.No, you do! I blurted.Okay, Mr. Burglar exclaimed.

do I need help?Uh, um.I tried to come up with a reason.Youre really sad.He shook his head, smiling.No, because ...I switched on my radio.Im happy. Come along if you f

a room without a roof, I sang alongSuddenly a stop sign started danc

tripping Mr. Burglar.A mailbox fell down break-danci

the burglar.I switched off the radio, smiling

man under the stop sign and mailboxAs the police came to take the bu

away, I skipped off, still humming th

And thats my power: I can makemate objects dance to my singing.



WRITEANDWINCASH!

1st place: $1002nd place: $75 | 3rd place: $50

PROMPTSANDMOREDETAILS:

youngwritersproject.org/climate

DEADLINEAPPROACHES! APRIL1

Presented by Vermontivate!, Vermont E

Education Program & Young Writers P

CLIMATE

CHANGEWRITING

CHALLENGE

adowsLASTAATS


happened again, Mimi.ood in the doorway to my grand-s room, staring across to wherein her oversized armchair by the

w, where she seemed to spend moreore of her time as she aged.r eyes flickered over to me. Thougheep into their sockets and framed byrinkles, her icy gray irises could still

for themselves. As a little girl, a merefrom her could fill me with great

r sudden fear. Today it was some-ifferent. Shame.

hen she spoke, her words were sharppped. You cannot let this keep hap-, Magnolia. There are dangers that

with your powers.owed my head, and a thick lock ofblond hair untucked itself from be-y ear, floating down to brush againstlarbone. I know. Im sorry.e sighed, lifting a bony hand ton me further into the room. I obeyed,ng across the threshold and gentlyg the door behind me, so as not toe rest of the family.hat happened this time?

was at the convenience store, Imy fingers straying to my pocket tothe candy bar I had purchased nothour before. The one on the corner

den Street by the bakery.es, yes, I know the one you mean,d impatiently, gesturing for me top.ell, I thought Id buy some candy.shier scanned it for me and then

d it across the counter, and I reachedit ... but I brushed her shadow as I

ump rose in my throat, as I remem-he shriek of the teenage girl as shed the candy and leapt backwards.

he screamed. She blamed it on a

spasm, afterward. I dont think shed.mi exhaled slowly, closing her eyesoment to reveal the spotted brownher eyelids. And youre sure shething? She didnt see the shadow?

hook my head. Im sure she didnt.mi opened her eyes again, to starento mine. There are people, youwho would do anything to get theiron you. Anything. And you cant letYou cant let your power get out of

m trying, I pleaded. I am. Butmes I cant help it. Its starting tomy life.

ell, of course it is! she exclaimed,ng the arm of her chair. Theset powers, they take control of you.etermine what you can and cannott you must keep them in check forod of the people.he good of the people, I repeated.o one can know. Mimi grasped myThere are people who can help you,who helped your grandfather. But

ky business. One misstep and youall into the wrong hands.

ould feel tears welling up in my eyes.t care. I cant live with this. I want

erstand whats happening. I want toothers like me.ou can, Mimi said firmly. And you

that is what you want.is, I whispered. I promise.e nodded, and pushed herself uper seat. Then it is decided. Let us

THEVOICE

READTHEAPRILISSUE!

Go to youngwritersproject.org


of YWPs monthly digital magaz

On the edgeBYZOECUDNEY


Why did you invite me up here any-way? I asked as I sat down on the metaledge of the roof.

My stomach was a swirling mass ofbutterflies, and I was already starting to feeldizzy as my fear of heights kicked in.

The sloping roof of the barn looked likea menacing cliff waiting for me to take onewrong step and fall to my destruction.

It didnt help that the night was pitchblack, the moon covered in a swirlingmass of clouds. The rooster weather vanecreaked as it spun in the wind.

She didnt answer. Instead, she turnedaway from me and began to walk along thetop of the roof. Her long red hair billowed

out behind her in a cloud as she spun toface me, now balanced on the very edge ofthe roof.

I have to show you something, shesaid, her voice wavering as she spoke.

But, you have to promise not to tellanyone.

She looked genuinely scared so I nod-ded slowly. She took a deep breath and fellbackwards off the roof. I screamed and ranto the edge, not thinking about what would

happen if I fell off.I was prepared to see her body lying

broken and battered on the ground, butthere was nothing there.

A laugh echoed across the field and Ilooked up. I almost fell over in surprisewhen I saw her.

She was flying.Giant gray wings had sprouted from her

back. Feathers fluttered in the wind as herwings pumped back and forth.

She laughed again, and then quicklyflew over to catch me as I fainted.

MOREGREATWRITINGAT


&

THEVOICE


14/39

THISWEEK: Vermont Writes Day


paper and foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize thepower and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please goto youngwritersproject.org/support,or mail your donation to YWP, 12North St., Suite 8, Burlington, VT

05401.


JANES TRUST


In its sixth year, Vermont Writes Day sparked the

imagination of thousands of writers across the state on

March 12. With Young Writers Projects seven prompts

to guide them, students, teachers and principals stopped

what they were doing for just seven minutes and wrote!

This week, we present a sample of the writing YWP

received. Read more in the April issue of The Voice!

PHOTOOFTHEWEEK



YWP NEWS

THEVOICE

READTHEAPRILISSUE!


to get your FREE subscriptio

of YWPs monthly digital magaz

CLIMATECHANGE

WRITINGCHALLENGE

WRITEANDWIN!

First place: $100Second place: $75 | Third place:

PROMPTSANDMOREDETAILS:

youngwritersproject.org/climat

DEADLINE: APRIL10

Presented by Vermontivate!,Vermont Energy Education Progr

& Young Writers Project

p of the worldBELVIVANCO


ss and turn in bed, uselessly attempt-fall asleep. I glance at the clock.ght. Already? I groan inwardly andto think about tomorrow, a day thatss in a miserable haze of exhaustion.ciding that a drink of water and a tripbathroom will cure my unsleeping-I get up, creep toward the hall anddoor across from my room. The

cross from my room ... Hmmm.snt one. Or there shouldnt be one!

y scream and run down the hall toents in a panic so together we can

ne the door in safety.t as I try to run, my feet move onlythe door. I stop just before I crash.

around nervously, but my curiositye better of me and I turn the knob.e door creaks softly as it opens. Nors. I step in but dont close the doore that wouldnt be a very smart thingAn average spiral staircase stands inf me. I put my foot on the first step,its weight and anticipating a crashesnt come.th this positive sign, I cautiously

my way up the stairs; my hand grazese smooth, sleek wood that makesbanister; my feet strike down on the

mished stairs. I make my way up andup and up and up and up and up.

e thought of turning around crossesnd once or twice, but I know I havep going so I can eventually reachal. (Whatever that is). Finally, whenke I might ju

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Burlington Free Press 2014-15