Rutland Herald 15-16

Forgotten
Dainty in the tall weeds,

lie these memories
of Mothers Day bouquets,
of little girls play.
Lots and lots
of forget-me-nots, forget-me-nots
dangle in brunette ringlets.
Reminisce
in nostalgic bliss; you will miss
yesterdays forget-me-nots.
Ill pick them all for
forget-me-nots are lost,
their petals a lonely blue
mixed with tears,
drops of morning dew.
Gone, gone are the daisies
whose wishes blew away.
Lovely are the morning glories
who steal the suns morning rays.
Forget-me-nots
meek yellow centers
seek a trustworthy shelter.
Tossed into a shadowed rose,
left with only shattered hope
lies a forget-me-not,
alone.
THIS WEEK: General & Tweet

Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions from students across Vermont, New Hampshire
and beyond. A team of staff, mentors and students
selects work for publication. This week, we present
responses to the challenges for General writing in
any genre & Tweet: Write a story in tweets. Read
more at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP
Young Writers Project is an independent nonprofit that engages students to write, helps them improve
and connects them with authentic
audiences in newspapers, before live
audiences and on web sites, youngwritersproject.org, vpr.net, vtdigger.
org, and cowbird.com. YWP also
publishes The Voice, a monthly digital magazine with YWPs best writing, images and features. To learn
more, go to youngwritersproject.org
or contact YWP at (802) 324-9537.
YWP is supported by this newspaper and foundations, businesses

and individuals who recognize the
power and value of writing. If you
would like to contribute, please go
to youngwritersproject.org/support,
or mail your donation to YWP, 47
Maple Street, Suite 106, Burlington,
VT 05401.
Special thanks this week to
BURLINGTON TELECOM
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
It is hard believing
That a river is falling
In the most peaceful of ways.
Droplets of water
Tripping over each other
Falling miles, but in a matter of days.
- MAX WONSAVAGE, KILLINGTON
Tweets: Lonely
Her weather changed. The sun became
clouded, her whole world became black.
She lost the one she loved. The one she
cherished the most. #deep
- STEFANIE ALLEN, RUTLAND
Spring
Oh my gosh, I cant believe it! Spring
is here! Bye-bye winter clothing. Hello
cute rainboots!
-KATELYN SCHUTT, WEST RUTLAND
The fam
- SANDRA GUYETTE, SHREWSBURY
Hangin with the fam #Dab
Push to the limit
- CHANCE PASSMORE, PROCTOR
Training.
Putting everything I have
into something I want.
Going hard so things will be easy.
Repeating things over and over
to get stronger and stronger.
Having the people that you want and need
to help you the whole way, no matter the
outcome.
The wind hitting my face from going fast.
The rush I get from almost crashing,
and just barely holding on.
Scared of what could happen.
Standing and looking down the course.
Waiting nervously for a go.
Remembering what to do,
and what not to do.
Out of the start.
Pushing as hard as I can
so that it will be a good and fast run.
Almost there.
Almost to the finish and tired.
Giving it my all, pushing it to the limit.
- AIDAN BENNETT, BENSON
Tumbling
Go to youngwritersproject.org
for your FREE subscription
to YWPs digital literary magazine!
MORE GREAT WRITING AT
Kevin Huang, Burlington
YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
Crab
THIS WEEK: Anthology 8
I think its kind of rude to swap my occupied sign to lonely without my permission ... I wrote about you like you were a
present but now my pen knows you as a
memory.
If mud sliding and sports-bra wearing
were metaphors for anything, it would be
home. And if home was a metaphor for
anything, it would probably feel like the
farthest island away from your ego.
I want to stay up all night with slam
poets and Emily Dickinson writing
poetry; I want to watch the stars constellations and the sun rise so it can get a nice
view of the world; I want to sing lullabies
to what we never put down so it sounds
asleep.
I no longer listen to songs and pretend
youre singing them to me.
Youre hundreds of morning runs
away, and now Im ready to make it
thousands.
When you told me safety is a social
construct, I pictured you with your arms
out anyway. Now I just think of you
walking away.
THE TALLY OF HOURS IN MY
Each year, Young Writers Project publishes an anthology of the best writing and photography submitted to
youngwritersproject.org. A team of staff, mentors and
students makes selections from thousands of submissions. This week, we present some of the local writers
who are featured in the anthology. For copies of the
anthology, go to youngwritersproject.org/anthology8.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
TO FIND YOU AGAIN,

BUT I AM DONE SEARCHING.
(continued>>)
to get your FREE subscription!
RUNNING LOG COULD BE USED
You made everything a construction

project that was built way too quickly
with no base; lackadaisical causes collapse.
BC you were a person; AD you were
a letter; now youre ... beginning to seem
like something to write about. I feel like
you only left for a poem in your name so
you could feel like you left something.
You made me the Brown-Eyed Girl, 17
going on 12, when you ran out. I pictured
you with your arms out and fell into my
own. I wrote to you as if you were my diary. We all know diaries dont write back.
The tally of hours in my running log
could be used to find you again, but I am
done searching. I felt like we were living
out metaphors until they didnt make
sense and you smacked me in the head
with logic. If I thought love was a washing machine cycle, then you pulled me
out and let me air-dry in the desert.
I dont know much about zodiac signs,
but I know were both cancer-ous. I
thought one of us could be the crab shell
and the other its guts, but being crabby
doesnt work when we cant even walk
forward and my shell is too soft for you
anyway.
READ THE LATEST ISSUE

OF YWPS DIGITAL MAGAZINE
Tumbling
It is hard believing
that a river is falling
in the most peaceful of ways,
droplets of water
tripping over each other,
falling miles, but in a matter of days.
- MAX WONSAVAGE, KILLINGTON
Trump
Trump has really funny hair
and his skin is like a tangerine.
He hides behind a lot of lies,
a money-made smokescreen.
The things he says are racist,
sexist and obscure;
the only way hed be all right
is if ignorance had a cure.
Anthology 8 cover photo by Bryan Storck, Essex Junction, VT
I used to look at the mountains. They

reminded me of your chest spread out,
comfortable, yet smug.
I saw your muscular hands reaching
over the clouds, one finger at a time; the
stars were my hair.
Now I look at the mountains and see
the world around me. You are not as big
as I thought you were.
I wanted you to ask about my idiosyncrasies and point out my flaws like they
were daydreams.
I wanted you to see me shivering, wrap
your sky around me and ask about my
poetry.
But I wanted a dream. And you are
not a dream. You are a cloudy sky that I
havent seen in awhile.
- ALIYA SCHNEIDER, RUTLAND
If he becomes the man in charge,

I will surely leave.
The loss of a once great country
we will have to grieve.
- HEATHER MCMANUS, RUTLAND

The fountain
BY SAVANNAH PERRY, RUTLAND
My grandmother hands me a penny; I
make a wish under my breath and toss the
little treasure in the beautiful, old fountain in the middle of the park. I grab my
grandmothers hand and we walk along
the old, beaten-down path.
Behind us, I hear a little splash of
water but when I look around to see who
has thrown a coin into the fountain, there
is no one there. The fountain is just as we
left it. I turn around and forget about it.
Remembering what I have wished, I
smile and start to hum. My grandmother
and I dont know what or who will control, or possibly grant, the very powerful
wish I have just made.
******
Here you go. Now dont throw it in
until Mommy and your sister get theirs.
Can you believe that when Mommy was a
little girl she came here with her grandmother, made a wish and threw a penny
in this exact fountain?
Make a wish. Ready? One. Two.
Three. Throw it.
I clap for them, remembering the day
that I had spent with my grandmother,
trying to remember the wish that I had
made. I look down, watching the coins
drop to the bottom of the fountain, and
something catches my eye. It is sparkling,
but I cant quite tell what it is. It is a note.
The shiny note has my name on it and the
year that I was 7 years old, which is how
old I was when I threw my last penny
in this fountain with my grandmother.
Below my name it says came true! But
the note also has the deep and permanent
words across it MISTAKE.
I try to reach down and touch it. I am
very curious to know what the note means
and who wrote it. I stretch out my hand
as far as it will go but I cannot reach it.
My entire arm is soaking wet, but I want
to know more about it. I lean over and
stretch my hand out again when a huge
gust of wind comes out of nowhere and I
fall over into the fountain!
I go from sitting on the side of the
fountain with my kids and husband, to
screaming and trying to grab the sides of
the fountain. My hands keep on slipping,
and I lose control and fall down for what
seems like forever. As I am falling, I open
my eyes and realize that on one side of
the tunnel there are pictures of me. They
are very bright, and they all show people
who are smiling. On the other side there
are pictures of people yelling and crying.
I have to squint to realize that they are all
of other people and me. There are pictures
that are lightened up, bright and very
comforting against the black stones.
THIS WEEK: Wishes

and beyond. A team of staff, mentors and students selects the best writing and images for publication. This
week, we present responses to Wishes: You come upon
a wishing well. What magic happens at the bottom of a
wishing well? More at youngwritersproject.org.
YWP EVENTS
CELEBRATION OF WRITING
& RELEASE PARTY FOR
ANTHOLOGY 8
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Maple St., Suite 106, Burlington,
VT 05401.
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ITS FRIDAY, MAY 13
7 - 9 PM
MAIN STREET LANDING
BURLINGTON

PHYSICIANS COMPUTER CO.
There are images of me with my family,

at the beach, on special holidays, strawberry picking, and the last picture that is
shining the brightest is of my grandmother and me standing next to the fountain,
holding hands, smiling. I begin to feel a
tear coming to my eye. The pictures that
are dark are all very distant, and some of
them I cant even remember.
The tunnel stops abruptly, and I rub
my arm, forgetting what it is like to have
that much pain. I look around to see that
there are different paths all leading away
from each other; I look up and see the
water falling from the fountain. Occasionally, a coin goes through the red tunnel,
the green tunnel or the yellow tunnel. I
dont understand why this is, and I dont
want to be here. I want to get back to
my family, and I really would like it if
someone could tell me what is going on!
Every time a coin drops into a tunnel, the
name above the tunnel lights up, and I see
that the word above the red tunnel says
NO. The word above the yellow tunnel
is SOON, and the green tunnel reads,
YES.
I will talk to her, I hear a little voice
say. A small person walks out of another
tunnel and says, Hello, Amy. I hear there
was a little accident with the fountain.
Are you all right? I know that you are not
used to a lot of pain and cant remember
it since when you were small.
The person says it so casually, as if
we have known each other forever, and
focuses his attention on some papers on
a desk.
I am completely shocked; how does

this person know my name? I dont ever
remember seeing him in my life!
So I hesitantly respond, I am fine;
thank you. Excuse me, but how do you
know my name?
The little man whips his head around
and gives me a look as if I am the dumbest person alive!
I am the Maker. All the coins that
people wish on come down here, and my
team and I have to figure out whether the
wish is logical and if its for the good of
everyone, if we will grant it, whether it
can wait a little while, or if it is a selfish wish and will not be good in the long
run. That is what the tunnels are for.
There have been a lot of wishes that have
gone in the NO tunnel that will not be
granted.
He says it as if I should have known
that already.
He goes back to sorting his papers,
and I have a million questions buzzing through my head, Why am I here?
Did my wish come true? Why was it a
mistake? As I am asking myself these
questions, I start to think, What was the
wish I had made? I couldnt remember
what it was. Why?
The Maker turns around again and
says, You made a very hard wish, a very
complicated wish that made my entire
team question and get into fights, debating if we should grant it or not. He turns
to me and continues, The wish you
asked for was to take away all of your
pain.
We had gotten this wish before, but

the children usually just meant it as a
wish for their scraped knees, or for the
parents for not having the pains of working so hard all the time. You had been
through a great deal of many different
kinds of pains, Amy. Types of pain that
children your age should never have to
go through. You meant this wish very sincerely, so we granted it. But we shouldnt
have, because now you feel no pain.
Which is why landing on this ground
hurt so much; down here wishes are only
granted, not received, so down here you
will feel all pain as you did before.
But why was it a mistake? I ask him.
Because at some point in everyones
life you feel pain. It is a part of life; it is
how we all grow. And by taking that away
from you, we took away your freedom
to learn and grow. You now have the
option of going back up and carrying on
as it was with no pain, or we can take
you back to the day when you made the
wish.
His face softens a little. Its your
choice.
I think for a long time, processing
everything that he has just said. How
different my life would have been if I had
known. So I respond, Both.
Good morning, my son, daughter
and husband say to me, waking me up.
With the blinding pain of sun in my
eyes, with the pain of waking up with a
sore neck, with the pain of being hungry,
and the pain of knowing that I have pain,
I smile and say, It is a very good morning!
THIS WEEK: General writing
Wishing well
At the bottom of the wishing well in the
park, there is a little town you cant see
because it is dark.
They watch people walk by thousands of
times, hoping they might just throw down
some dimes.
People think its just a well, but what they
dont know is that its filled with spells.
If they would just throw down a penny
or two, they would find that their wishes
would come true.
The well is a dirty shade of yellow and
green, but if you look down it will indeed
start to gleam.
Long ago kids would line up to make a
wish; one day some kid even brought her
pet fish.
So for now the little town will wait, until
a child comes and finds out her fate.
- MORGAN WASHBURN, PITTSFORD
Brandeis blue
It was the most brilliant shade of blue Id
ever seen.
I was walking in town, and what did I see?
A whole ton of blue; it was all around me.
Up and above, and all down below, it was
everywhere, but I just went with the flow.
The sky, the homes, the cars, the coast!
A color loved by many, actually, most.
Every little corner had a shade of blue.
It could be bright, or even dull, too!
However it became a little repeated.
My frustration got bigger; I got really
heated. But then I saw this one little shop.
It was so brilliant, I wanted to drop.
The sign, the seats, the walls, the treats.
It was all blue! A blue bakery.
They offered it all! My favorites blue tea!
It was a wild shade of blue, not like the
others.
This great little idea came from another.
I walked in the shop with an open mind.
The clerk didnt notice me; it was like he
was blind!
I went up to him saying, Can I get some
blue tea?
He gasped and he looked like he wanted
to flee.
Not blue, BRANDEIS! the clerk
projected, saying it like Brandeis was
something he respected.
And then I realized that Brandeis was that
wild shade!
I ordered the tea, and then I paid.
I walked out of there with a smile on my
face
because then I knew that this was the
place.
- RACHEL GREGORY, RUTLAND
and beyond. A team of staff, mentors and students selects the best writing and images for publication. This
week, we present responses to the prompts, General
writing & Blue: Use the phrase, it was the most brilliant shade of blue. More at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
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PARTNERS
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

& RELEASE PARTY FOR
ANTHOLOGY 8
FRIDAY, MAY 13
7 - 9 P.M.
MAIN STREET LANDING

BURLINGTON
MEET THE WRITERS &
PHOTOGRAPHERS PUBLISHED BY
YWP!
RSVP: youngwritersproject.org/cow2016
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
Caleb Dudley, Essex Junction
Decisions
Your life is made up of millions and billions of decisions.
And all of those decisions affect the rest
of your life.
The decision to go left or right will
change your path;
it will alter it in ways that can be good,
or bad.
Your decision to walk faster might save
your life, or it might end it.
Your decision to go to a party could intro-
duce you to your future husband,

or it could condemn you to eternal loneliness.
Every decision you make could change
the rest of your life.
Every left turn could lead to disaster or
conquest,
and every right turn could do the same.
So, what I am asking you to do is
make your decisions wisely
because you never know where they can
lead you.
- MAGGIE SCHILLINGER, RUTLAND
READ YWPS DIGITAL MAGAZINE


& THE VOICE
Blue
It was the most beautiful shade of blue Id
ever seen.
Her eyes.
Each day they changed,
and I had never seen them the same.
Yet, they were always those blue eyes.
And when we kissed,
her pale eyelids drooped,
hazy with the sense of lust.
I never told her the way they drooped and
especially how much I loved it.
And now I wish I could.
Specks of grey and green,
specks of confusion and true feeling.
Bitch.
The most beautiful shade of blue eyes
played me.
Again.
But here I am wanting to see the eyelids
slightly hide the hazy blues.
Here I am wanting to be close enough to
recognize the specks of grey and green,
the specks of confusion.
Again.
Im addicted to her and I have no idea
what Im doing,
no idea why I keep coming back to let my
own dull eyes swallow the blue.
But here I am.
Once again.
Desperately wanting her to see the blue
in me.
THIS WEEK: Blue & General

selects the best writing and images for publication.
This week, we present responses to the challenges,
Blue: Write, using the phrase,it was the most beautiful shade of blue, & General writing in any genre.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
VERMONT BUSINESS
ROUNDTABLE
PHOTOS OF THE WEEK
Five awful jokes
Knock, knock.
Whos there?
Lion.
Lion who?
Lion on the front porch. Let me in!
Ice and raindrops
- MATTHEW CREED, RUTLAND

Knock, knock.
Whos there?
Phillip.
Phillip who?
Phillip my cup; Im thirsty.
- RORY BELLE CARRARA, RUTLAND
Its the color he sees in the ice he is eating.

Its the color of the app on which he is
tweeting.
Its the color he sees when the raindrops
fall to the ground.
Its the color he feels when hes starting
to feel down.
Its the color that he sees out the window
of a plane.
Its the color of the seats hes sitting on in
a train.
Its the color of the lake he sees below his
feet.
Its the color of the sweet candy he likes
to eat.
Its a perfect shade of blue, one that cannot be outdone.
Its a perfect shade of blue, one that
evokes a feeling of fun.
YWP NEWS
Photos by Madi Cohen, Bolton
Knock, knock.
Whos there?
Dwayne!
Dwayne who?
Dwayne the bathtub quick!
Im dwownding!
Knock, knock.
Whos there?
Ailene.
Ailene who?
Ailened on the door and it opened.
Knock, knock.
Whos there?
Police.
Police who?
Police stop telling these awful knockknock jokes!
-DYLAN LEE, BENSON
When the world

wakes up
Have you ever just stopped and looked
outside
when the world is waking up from winter?
A soft, gentle breeze runs through the
trees
almost as if to softly rattle them awake.
Birds awake from their long naps and
peek out from behind branches.
They chirp and they sing as their brothers
and sisters join them.
Small patches of snow slowly melt away
as the sun breaks through the clouds
and showers the world with light.
Rabbits rub their eyes as they waken and
slowly climb out of hibernation.
Other animals join them as the whole
world starts to wake up from winter.
Green grass slowly starts to overtake the
white snow
and, slowly but surely, the snow melts
away and sinks down into the softening
ground.
A childs laugh can be heard from far
away as snow pants and snow boots are
shed for short sleeves and sandals.
Windows open as people yearn to breathe
in the scent that only shows itself in
spring.
Animals and people alike shake off their
winter coats and start to enjoy,
when the world wakes up from winter.
THIS WEEK: Humbling & General

Each week, Young Writers Project receives several
hundred submissions from students across Vermont
and New Hampshire. This week, we present responses to the writing challenges, Humbling: Start a story
with, I thought I knew the answer... & General
writing. Go to youngwritersproject.org to read more
great writing.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
BURLINGTON TELECOM
NEXT CHALLENGES
Blue. It was the most brilliant shade of
blue Id ever seen Work that phrase
(or concept) into a poem or story. Alternate: Framed: You have a photograph
of a meaningful moment. Describe
it. But wait, theres more now tell
a story about whats just outside the
frame. Post the photo! Due April 22
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
Passage: You find a secret passage

in the basement of your grandfathers
house. Where does it lead? How does
it change your perspective about your
family/grandfather? Alternate: Surveillance: What do you think about government or military surveillance? When
does it go too far? Due April 29
Alone
to The Voice,
YWPs digital literary magazine!
- MAGGIE SCHILLLINGER, RUTLAND
I thought I knew the answer, but I

couldnt remember it.
I knew it five minutes before, so why
couldnt I remember it then?
I thought it was inscribed in my brain,
just another fact waiting for my mind
to pull out. Why couldnt I remember it
when I needed to remember it the most?
What was wrong with me?
I stood on stage, the whole school
looking at me. I stood there with a white
face and a lip that quivered. I could feel
my heartbeat pounding away within my
chest.
I felt alone and abandoned, but there
were 100 people around me. It felt like I
was a fish in a sea of sharks.
There was nothing I could do except
stand there, no hope to escape the fate
that was waiting to come.
YWP NEWS
Back. Oh gosh, theyre back... Write

a story based on or using that phrase.
Alternates: Certain: Make a list of
10 things you know for sure. You can
start your list with the words, This I
know It can be funny or serious; or
General: Send us your best work of
any category or type that youve created in or out of school. Due May 6
Submit writing to youngwritersproject.org.
Breanna Johnson, Shrewsbury
SEND YOUR PHOTOS TO YOUNG WRITERS PROJECT!

Submit on your blog or email: sreid@youngwritersproject.org

The school week

Monday: You feel like a zombie;
youre just half awake. You stumble
through all your classes, trying at times to
smile, but sadly fail.
Tuesday: A bit sluggish, but somewhat
better than yesterday. Today, when the
teacher asks you what the capital of California is, you actually say Sacramento,
unlike yesterday when the same teacher
asked you the same question and you said
Albany.
Wednesday: Somehow you have tons
of energy, knowing that in three days, it
will be Friday! A smile is on your face
and youre cracking jokes left and right.
The whole school day is great except
when you say crap right in front of your
teacher.
Thursday: Youre impatient; the day
is taking so long to end! Tomorrow is
Friday!
Friday: Youre so excited! You have
more energy than you ever thought possible! Unfortunately, during last period
when your teacher asks you for the capital
of Michigan, youre so lost in your own
world, you say Idaho.
THIS WEEK: One-sided & General
YWP NEWS

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, One-sided: Write about a one-sided conversation and what happens; & General writing.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
PHYSICIANS COMPUTER
COMPANY
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
- ATHENA EUBER, RUTLAND
CONGRATULATIONS
TO THE WINNERS OF THE
I AND YOU
POETRY CHALLENGE!

Ben Maksym of Grand Isle

Kaytlyn Young of Shelburne
Peyton Cassel of Lancaster, PA
Winners receive two tickets to the
Vermont Stage play, I and You, at
FlynnSpace in Burlington from April
20-May 8. See the winning poems and
all submissions to the challenge at:
youngwritersproject.org/iandyou.
Tickets to the play: vermontstage.org
Cancel that!
I was so excited for our upcoming
Disney trip! Everything was planned. Our
MagicBands had arrived and all our FastPass+ and dinner reservations had been
made. I couldnt even think straight, I was
so excited. In just a few weeks I would be
at Walt Disney World!
One day, I was walking into the kitchen when I heard my mom on the phone.
Yes I would like to cancel the reservation, she said.
I started to freak out.
Yes, the Polynesian Resort, I would
like to cancel that, she said.
That was it! She was canceling the
Disney trip! I didnt know why, but why
else would she be canceling a reservation
at the hotel?
When she got off the phone, I started
to talk so fast that I was almost out of
breath. I asked her why she canceled the
trip. She didnt have a chance to speak.
I heard you on the phone canceling
the trip! I yelled.
It turns out there was just an extra
room on the reservation. She was canceling the extra room.
I had freaked out for nothing.
- NOAH DURKEE, RUTLAND
Kevin Huang, Burlington High School
Best friend
She is nice.
She is good.
She is smart.
She is kind.
She is (tries to be) funny.
I am proud to call her my best friend.
- ANGELA PERRY, RUTLAND
NEXT CHALLENGE
Blue. It was the most brilliant shade
of blue Id ever seen Work that
phrase (or concept) into a poem or
story. Alternate: Framed: You have a
photograph of a meaningful moment.
Describe it. Tell a story about whats
just outside the frame. Post the photo!
Due April 22


Magical bush
It used to be beautiful.
We used to sit inside and pretend it was
our house.
We pretended the branches were chairs
and the dirt-covered ground was carpet.
We would cover our faces as we ran in
through the pretend door
because if we didnt, we would come out
with more scratches than we went in with.
The small leaves would get stuck in our
hair
and when we got in the shower, they
would fall out of the creases in our
clothes.
We would spend hours out there,
my sisters and me.
We would play and our imaginations
would take flight.
We would pretend we were older
or younger.
We would pretend we were each others
parents
and we would clean the house
just like our Mom and Dad did.
And now at the end of my lifetime,
just as I turn 100,
I return to the magical bush
that held my imagination as a child.
However, just like my childhood,
the three bushes that made up the walls of
our pretend house
died.
Nothing is left.
Except for three small stumps.
Tears come to my eyes
and run down my wrinkled, old face.
I cry for the memories.
I cry for my childhood.
I cry for my sisters.
I cry for the three small stumps
that are all thats left of my beautiful
childhood bush
that was the home of my imagination,
and the home of my childhood happiness.
As I sit on the three small stumps,
my old and creaky limbs yearn to jump
and run through the makeshift door that is
only of my imagination.
They yearn to sit on the branches and
swing upside down.
But my beautiful bush is gone,
and its not going to come back.
- MAGGIE SCHILLINGER, RUTLAND

selects work for publication. This week, we present
responses to the challenge to write about anything in
any genre. Read more at youngwritersproject.org, a
safe, civil online community of writers and artists.
Cant you see it?

Cant you see it?
The way my cheeks turn pink,
The way I hide my eyes,
The way you make me smile
When you smile and walk by.
Cant you see it?
The way I giggle at your jokes,
The way I poke fun more than most,
The way I try to impress you
When I brag and boast.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
Cant you see it?

But then again, how could you?
I hide my feelings away,
I dont think I can tell you
But maybe I will one day.
My life as a cat
MGN FAMILY FOUNDATION
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
- HEATHER MCMANUS, RUTLAND
My life is terrible. Every time our

owner calls my sister and me for dinner,
she always beats me.
Every time there is company, my sister
always grooms herself and her fur looks
the best. Every, every, every time. I hate
it.
I feel like Im a dork and my sister
always gets more attention.
When our owners son is sad, he always relies on Margo. Margo is my sister,
the cat with the nice, always groomed
black and white fur, and everyone always
says, Awww, what a cute, little kitty.
And I, well, Im just ignored. ...
- ANNA BOROWY, WEST RUTLAND
Kaleb Aiken, Essex Junction
NEXT WRITING CHALLENGES

Op-ed. Write an opinion piece based on a current news story. Take a side and make
a persuasive argument. Alternate: Awoke: I awoke to the sound unleash a poem
with this line. Due April 15

& THE VOICE
Blue. It was the most brilliant shade of blue Id ever seen Work that phrase (or
concept) into a poem or story. Alternate: Framed: You have a photograph of a meaningful moment. Describe it. But wait, theres more now tell a story about whats just
outside the frame. Post the photo! Due April 22
to The Voice,
YWPs digital literary magazine!
Dont give up
Everyone has a point in their lives
when they want to be done with everything, and just have a break from the
world. We get these feelings mostly from
other people around us. Many kids get
bullied because of their looks, personality,
or even just being themselves.
Personally, I have many people I
would like to give up on. But I am not the
type of person to just stop caring and give
up. I like to push myself and keep trying
because everyone in this world is just
trying to live.
Honestly, giving up on a person seems
so unfair. Why spend your life unhappy
and hating people when instead, you
could give people a chance.
One of my greatest pet peeves is mean
people, and unfortunately, our world has
many of them.
People just dont care about anything
anymore, and would much rather make
themselves happy by making fun of
others because they think its funny or
something.
My question is, whats the point in giving up on people? Is it because were too
lazy to even try or give them a chance?
Life obviously isnt full of second
chances, but what even is a second
chance? All were doing is keeping our
trust and faith in that person.
I would much rather give people more
chances than just give up and move on.
It probably is the easier thing to do, but it
really isnt OK.
Although I am against giving up on
people, I have done it in the past. It really
is a hard thing to do, and sometimes it
seems as though you dont have much of
a choice.
There comes a time when the person
you are trying to communicate with just
keeps giving up on you.
You try to reach out to them, but they
keep pushing you away.
Thats when I want to give up. I give
up when people show me they dont care
anymore.
Its the saddest thing, especially when
youve been trying for a long time, but
the point is that we have no control.
We dont have any guarantees, and we
never know whats going to happen in
life. As fallible as we all are, we have to
keep trying, and we have to keep reaching
out to others.

This week, we present responses to the prompt, General writing. Read more at youngwritersproject.org,
a safe, civil online community.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
AMY E. TARRANT
FOUNDATION
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
One word
Hey.
That one word is all it took. All he had
to do was walk up to me, with those big
brown eyes and say that one word with a
smile bright enough to light up a city. It
was that one word that made me immediately fall head over heels in love with this
gorgeous stranger.
And so it began.
We were best friends, but it was more
than that. We shared everything with
each other, never worrying if it could go
wrong. We were madly in love. When
we were together it was like the rest of
the world didnt exist; we had eyes only
for each other. I love you, he would
whisper softly into my ear. We knew
each other as well as we knew ourselves,
almost better. We spent hours just lying
together, sometimes not even talking, just
enjoying being close to each other.
And then it happened; everything fell
apart.
Im so sorry, he said, tears filling
those beautiful eyes that I fell in love
with.
But sorry wasnt going to fix what
he had done, nothing would. He, in one
night, had destroyed the beautiful thing
we had built. He had destroyed me.
-KATHRYN DUGAN, POULTNEY
YWP NEWS
DONT MISS THE APRIL ISSUE

- ERIN MCCLALLEN, RUTLAND
THE VOICE
Madi Cohen, Bolton
I believe
I believe that we are equal
no matter what they say,
no matter where were from,
or how we spend our day.
Pay no attention to the skin color,
or the religion that they pray,
accepting one another
is the kind and human way.
We shouldnt judge by who they love
or choose to be in life,
because hurting those whore different
will only cause grief and strife.
My beliefs are not as common
as I hope that they would be
since we do live in a land
where everyone should be free.
Many may oppose
but I wont change how I feel,
because I dream of equal times
thatll one day become real.
-HEATHER MCMANUS, RUTLAND
Stress on Mondays
THIS WEEK: Footsteps & General

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,
Sound-Footsteps: Listen to the sound and write! &
General writing. More at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
VERMONT BUSINESS
ROUNDTABLE
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
Mondays.
The beginning of the week, the beginning
of my misery.
-ATHENA EUBER, RUTLAND
Last step
As the army marched toward us, we
were scared.
Our husbands, dads, and friends were
marching off to World War II. They
walked in a line, stepping together.
They dressed proudly, but the look on
their faces told a different story.
They looked scared.
And although the birds were chirping,
the soldiers were not happy.
When they walked past us, they
stopped. The commander looked at his
wife. She was the last person he saw.

YWP NEWS
Madi Cohen, Bolton
NEXT CHALLENGES
Tweet: Tell a story in a tweet (140-character segments). Alternate: SoundShower: Listen to the audio link on this challenge on youngwritersproject.org/
prompts15-16 and write the story you hear. Due March 25
Humbling: I thought I knew the answer, but finish the sentence in a
story of a real or imagined experience. Alternate: Expectations: You meet your
biggest idol. Describe the meeting. Is the person everything you had hoped for
or ? Due April 1
POETRY COMPETITION!
GET PUBLISHED! WIN TICKETS
TO THIS VERMONT STAGE PLAY!
SUBMISSIONS DUE MARCH 31
Info: youngwritersproject.org/iandyou
On the golf course

The golfer stepped up to the tee.
He said, Oh gosh, what do I see?
He was looking up to the pin.
Then, in a flash, he had a grin.
He stepped up right behind the ball.
Once hit, the ball began to fall.
The golf match took place in the fall.
The golfer was on his last tee.
He tried to look for his lost ball.
The ball was impossible to see.
Then once again he had his grin.
The ball was hit right off the pin!
His shot was on point to the pin.
Once the small ball started to fall,
He stood there with his big grin
And his last unbroken wood tee.
Then he squinted his eyes to see
That rolling toward him was the ball.
He kept his eyes on the small ball
And watched the jiggly, wiggly pin.
What he soon didnt know to see Right in the middle of the fall A squirrel had stolen his last tee
And now gone was his big, wide grin.
To be happy, to regain his grin,
He said, I shall go hit that ball!
Even though he had lost his tee
And hit his ball into the pin
Right in the middle of the fall
He still hoped, but lets wait and see.
He hoped to win, he hoped to see
That he would get back his old grin.
Right in the middle of the fall
He stepped right up and hit the ball.
He sunk it in the hole and pin
And the squirrel gave him a fresh tee.
He got his tee and he could see
The pin lost to him, along with his grin
While playing ball in the mid-fall.
-ETHAN SCHMITT, RUTLAND
In the hallway
THIS WEEK: Ice & General writing
I want to be
I was walking down the hallway, going

to my locker with my friend when the
hustle of people went by and I lost him.
If we lose each other, we just scream
into the crowd, Ill get your stuff and
meet you in science class!
Today was different, though. He never
came to class.
I asked my classmates if they had seen
him and they said they heard a rumor that
he went to the principals office.
How could that happen? I wondered.
He is the best behaved kid in the school
and the smartest ... oh, the smartest! He
probably got beat up and he is telling on
the jerk who did it. Good for him! He
never stands up for himself, I think.
After class I started to head toward my
locker, but it was hard to get to it because
a bunch of people were huddled around,
screaming.
I was trying to see what was going on,
but I couldnt see and then a girl asked
me if that was my friend and she pointed
to a kid on the ground getting yelled at by
some kid wearing a sweatshirt.
Oh, my God! I screamed, as I did the
nerdiest thing possible at that moment: I
threw my books and ran for the bathroom.
I thought to myself, Wait. You need to
help him out. Do the easiest and safest
thing to help a person who is getting beat
up.
Tell a teacher, I said out loud, and I
ran in the opposite direction of the fight
and prayed he was at least knocked out so
he couldnt feel the pain.
Mrs. Carson! Mr. Bean! Mr. McDonald! Teachers, there is a problem outside!
I screamed through the hallways, hoping
that the bully couldnt hear me.
But there were no teachers anywhere,
so I went to see what was happening with
the fight and all I could tell was that
it had moved from the hallway to the
outside.
The sweatshirt kid had gone and everyone was just looking at my friend, lying
on the ground, hardly breathing.
This week, we present responses to the challenges,
Sound-Ice: Listen to the sound and write; and General writing. More at youngwritersproject.org.
I want to be the person who inspires all

of your dreams,
the root to your successes.
I want to be the person who listens to
the words that you never let anyone else
hear.
I want to be your go-to everything.
I want to be the one who makes you
smile harder than you usually do.
I want to be the one youre associated
with.
I want to be your role model,
the one you look up to.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.

PHOTO OF THE WEEK
RORY CARRARA, RUTLAND
Crackle of ice
The crackle of the ice in your cup
is like a knife to the chest.
You get the feeling of butterflies in your
stomach,
and then bam, you get the feeling
knocked out of you.
Youre staggering, trying to stand.
Your daze is getting the best of you.
Youre trying to talk,
but your lips are sealed, cant move.
You start to panic.
What did I drink? What did I smoke?
Your body goes numb and you hit the
floor...
You start thinking, I just got drugged.
All it takes is one drink, one puff, and you
end up ...
DYLAN LEE, BENSON
ANGELA PERRY, RUTLAND

NEXT CHALLENGES
Humbling: I thought I knew the
answer, but finish the sentence
in a story of a real or imagined experience. Alternate: Expectations:
You meet your biggest idol insert
celebrity/public figure here describe the meeting. Due April 1
We need you
Cant you see it how I see it,
how I do what I do?
How I help out with everything,
and how you do nothing?
We need you; we need your help,
help with everything,
everything bad and good,
scary and exciting,

help with the hard times and the good,
the forgiving and the forgotten,
the worst and the greatest,
help with the things that we dont need
and the things that we do.
Cant you see it?
AIDAN BENNETT, BENSON

I called you today

I called you. I called you five times
today, I called you six times yesterday,
and seven the day before.
Its not faith. I dont have faith that you
will answer. I just like hearing your voice.
I like hearing your voice because its in
the same tone it was every time you told
me you loved me. Hey, its Jake. I cant
come to the phone right now so leave a
message and Ill talk to you later.
You never said goodbye. You said
goodbye means forever, so you just said,
See ya later.
But I dont get to see you later, so
why couldnt I say goodbye that time? It
never went to voicemail before this. You
answered every time I called. I remember
the first time I got your voicemail.
It was right after Dad called me at 3
a.m., exactly two years ago today. I was
sleeping, waiting for you to come home. I
knew you were just out with your friends,
but the phone rang.
Hello?
It was silent.
Jakobs dead, said my dad.
Dead. My number one fear. When
someone dies they leave forever, but
forever really means never.
You left forever and Ill never see you
or touch you again. I didnt believe my
dad at first.
I called your phone; no answer. Thats
when I knew it was real. The rescue
squad said your phone rang in the field
where you crashed.
So, yes, I called today, yesterday, and
every day since then. But its not faith.
Ill call you again tomorrow and the next
day and every day after that just to hear
your voice.
THIS WEEK: Voicemail, Train & More

Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions from students across the country. A team of staff,
mentors and students selects the best local writing and
images for publication here. This week, we present
responses to the challenges, Voicemail: Tell a story
or poem in the form of a voicemail & Sound-Train:
Write the story behind the sound you hear.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
FRIDAY, MARCH 11
BASEMENT TEEN CENTER
39 MAIN ST., MONTPELIER
PERFORMANCE WORKSHOP 5 P.M.
TEEN OPEN MIC 6:15 P.M.
MORE INFO
youngwritersproject.org/node/5128
THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS
PHOTO OF THE WEEK

NEXT CHALLENGES
The same message
SOPHIA TEDESCO, RUTLAND
TEEN OPEN MIC
EMILEE SWEATT, BENSON
Every day I write the same message to

you. I never have enough courage to send
it, though. I can never hit that send button that makes the message go away and
turns it into a blue bubble.
I can never change your contact and
put your name instead of just leaving your
number at the top of the screen.
I can never send that message about
what you did to me. I can never stop
caring for you. I can never stop worrying
about you. But Im trying to stop loving
you.
Its not working out so far.
YWP NEWS & EVENTS
Emma Comeau, Shelburne
Train tracks
Here I am, standing, waiting
waiting for him.
He told me to meet him here.
Im here right on time, 12 oclock.
I have the money he wants, but hes not
here.
I turn to grab the pay phone.
Right as I grab it, a hand touches my
shoulder.
I turn around and its him.
He takes the money and pushes me.
I trip and fall onto the train tracks.
I can hear the train coming, but I cant

move.
Im thrashing, trying to get up, but Im
hurt.
The train is minutes from hitting me.
If I cant move, I will die.
The train is much closer now.
Im screaming for help, but nobody can
hear me.
As the train hits me, I wake up. Im still
screaming.
It was just a dream, but it was so real.
JILLIAN STUART, BENSON
Tweet: Tell a story in a tweet

(140-character segments). Alternate:
Sound-Shower: Click on the audio link
on this challenge and write the story you
hear or use the sound clip and others to
create a soundscape. Due March 25
Humbling: I thought I knew the
answer, but finish the sentence in a
story of a real or imagined experience.
Alternate: Expectations: You meet your
biggest idol insert celebrity/public
figure here describe the meeting. Due
April 1
Kings apprentice
Boom! The sound echoed down the
street. The huge door at the front of the
city rattled and shook as if a fearsome
beast were about to smash through.
The people of the city were running
around, shoving each other to reach
safety. Thousands of feet were pounding
against the stone pavements. Soldiers
rushed toward the gate, drawing their
swords and leveling their spears.
One of the soldiers was a teenage boy.
His name was Valkryn. He was nervous
and excited at the same time, for this was
his first battle. He had spent the past year
marching around the kingdom, catching
thieves and walking back and forth for
hours while on patrol.
As he charged forward with the other
soldiers, another boom erupted, causing
the door to fall and the walls to crack.
Suddenly, the attacking army swarmed
in and total mayhem ensued. The sounds
of swords clashing, shields banging and
armor clanking filled the air.
Valkryn dodged around, every now and
then hitting an enemy with his shield. He
was taken by surprise as he slammed into
somebody and stumbled back; instantly
he realized that it was the king!
Your majesty, Valkryn cried. What
are you doing here?
What does it look like? the king
replied as he deflected a sword and sliced
his own sword through the attacker.
Im helping my people! Now get
behind me before you get yourself kill
he said just as an arrow struck his chest.
Your majesty! Valkryn shouted as he
ran forward and crouched next to the king
who had fallen to the ground.
With long, shaky breaths, the king
grabbed Valkryns hand and placed something small into it. Never forget this moment, my child, said the old man, before
taking one last breath.
Valkryn defended the kings body until
he was hit on the head and knocked out
cold. When he woke later, he was in the
royal palace, lying on a magnificent bed.
A man in royal robes stood near the bed.
Valkryn started to ask a question when
the man held up his hand to stop him. I
will explain everything he said. Just
listen. We drove back the attacking army,
but we lost many lives, one of them being
the king. You happened to be there when
the king died, so he gave you this.
He held up a gold ring. This ring, the
man said, is part of the royal family. The
king gives this to the heir when he thinks
the heir is worthy. The king, having no
heirs, has given it to you. ...
(Full story at youngwritersproject.org/node/4583.)
GRIFFIN KINGSBAUER, RUTLAND
THIS WEEK: Moment

and beyond. This week, we present local responses
to the writing challenge, Moment: Use this phrase in
your story, Never forget this moment, my child, the
old man said Read more great writing at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
JANES TRUST
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
The blue-green egg

Scratching noises were coming from
a blue-green egg. Suddenly, some cracks
appeared. Peeping sounds could be heard
as if the creature inside was saying to
itself, Come on; you can do it.
The egg started rocking back and
forth with more peeping and scratching
noises. Then CRACK! The egg broke
open, and there lay a blue-green dragon
hatchling.
The baby dragon rolled onto its four
legs, stood up and looked around as if to
say, TA-DA!
She rustled her wings, flicked her
tail, and started to look around. She was
startled when she heard a loud bang and
the sound of footsteps approaching as
a young girl and an old man came into
view.
The girl had violet eyes and straight
black hair. Her name was Zoe. The old
man was her grandfather.
Zoe smiled and bent toward the baby
dragon. When the baby came over and
rubbed against her legs, Zoe smiled and
said, I will call you Coral.
As Zoe petted Coral, the old man said,
Never forget this moment, my child.
MADISON KINGSBAUER, RUTLAND
YWP NEWS

Madi Cohen, Bolton

Trump
Trump has really funny hair
and his skin is like a tangerine;
he hides behind a lot of lies,
a money-made smoke screen.
The things he says are racist,
sexist and obscure;
the only way hed be alright
is if stupidity had a cure.
If he becomes the man in charge,
I will surely leave;
the loss of a once great country
we will have to grieve.
HEATHER MCMANUS, RUTLAND
Grandmas brisket
My mother sat across from my grandmother at the dining room table,
sipping on tea,
and told her that she would be remembered for her brisket.
I didnt want to try to imagine
a day without my grandmothers brisket
or old magenta lipstick marks on her
teacup.
But I did know
that she would be remembered
for more than her famous brisket.

hundred submissions from students across Vermont,
New Hampshire and beyond. A team of staff and students selects writing for publication here. This week,
we present responses to the challenge to write about
anything in any genre. Read more at youngwritersproject.org, a safe, civil online community of writers.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
BURLINGTON TELECOM

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

TEEN OPEN MIC
FRIDAY, MARCH 11
BASEMENT TEEN CENTER
39 MAIN ST., MONTPELIER
PERFORMANCE WORKSHOP 5 P.M.
TEEN OPEN MIC 6:15 P.M.
MORE INFO
ALIYA SCHNEIDER, RUTLAND
A metaphorical
pantoum
youngwritersproject.org/node/5128
NEXT PROMPTS
Music is like life.

If you mess up, you can try again.
With determination, you can get even
better.
Your inner talents will eventually bloom.
Clouds: Imagine you have the ability

to float up to and walk on clouds -- and
not fall through. What do you do with
this newfound power? Alternates: Photo-SeaStairs: Use the photo, Seapoint,
Dublin, Ireland, by Giuseppe Milo to
write a story. Due March 4
If you mess up, you can try again.

It is full of opportunity.
Your inner talents will eventually bloom
Although there are many bumps along the
road of success.
Wishes: You come upon a wishing

well. What kind of magic happens at the
bottom of a wishing well? Who handles
all these wishes and how? Alternate:
Sound-Stirring: Listen to the sound on
youngwritersproject.org and write the
story you hear. Due March 11
It is full of opportunity.
With determination you can get even better
Although there are many bumps along the
road of success.
Music is like life.
ETHAN SCHMITT, RUTLAND
YWP NEWS & EVENTS
Dylan Sayamouangkhua, Burlington
Bad timing
Could this class be any more boring? I
ask myself as I sit in the back of the class
listening to the teacher lecture us on how
to properly write an essay.
I look at the clock and see we have 10
minutes left of class.
If I go to the bathroom right now, I can
stall enough so that when I return everyone will be packing up for the next class.
I stand up and ask to use the restroom.
When I open the door, I hear two people
talking in the empty hallway. They are
two students from a higher grade.
One is standing against the wall, and
the other is about two feet away from
him. Both are clearly angry.
THATS NOT TRUE ...

I SWEAR IT WASNT ME.
I eventually have to walk by them to
go to the bathroom. I start walking toward
them and try to hear what they are saying.
The one against the wall keeps interjecting with things such as, Thats not
true, and I swear it wasnt me.
The other one seems to be accusing
him of cheating on a test.
Im now less than 10 feet away from
the two and can clearly hear the argument. I look down and try to go by unnoticed.
They are so immersed in their argument that they pay no attention to me.
When I reach the bathroom, I can still
hear them clearly.
From the sounds of it, one kid cheated
off the others test, and if he does not confess, both of them will be punished.
I go to the bathroom and wash my
hands. As I am drying my hands, I hear a
bang.
I rush out of the bathroom and see one
kid standing over the other, punching
him. The boy on top looks at me and runs
into the bathroom at the other end of the
hall.
All of a sudden, a teacher bursts out of
the classroom.
The teacher sees me standing over the
kid, who is bleeding, and immediately
starts yelling.
I can explain! I say.
But its too late; Im being pulled to the
principals office.
EMILY HATHAWAY, BRANDON
THIS WEEK: Hallway
YWP NEWS
and beyond. A team of staff and students selects the
best writing and images for publication. This week,
we present responses to Hallway: Theres a confrontation in a school hallway in which there is a blatant
injustice. More at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
JANES TRUST
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
At The Generator in Burlington by Kevin Huang, Burlington (See more photos in The Voice)
The intervention
A young boy was walking through the
hall one day when he saw a parent and
a teacher fighting about a child missing
school.
He watched as the two adults fought
like children. He wanted to do something,
but he was scared to intervene.
He thought for a minute and then got
an idea. If he went to the principal, this

would end. He got the principal and they
raced to the fight.
The principal broke up the fight, and
the teacher turned red from embarrassment. The parent then stormed off furiously and enrolled her child in a different
school.
MICHAEL BLAIS, MOUNT HOLLY
GET YOUR FREE SUBSCRIPTION

AT YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
Rydell High
School walking from class to class,
waiting for the day to end.
The hallways connect each class. The
hallways have many stories teachers
yelling at students, fights and just the
everyday gossiping.
It was in the hallways of Rydell High
where the biggest story happened between two students. And I was there.
As I walked down the hallway, I heard
a scream. Five others and I ran to the
scene.
I looked around and saw my best
friend and the most popular girl in school,
lying on the ground.
Against the wall was her boyfriend,
furious. I knew that they were having
some problems. They were always fighting about the stupidest things.
She got up, but she was slow. She
didnt want to make him even madder.
She started to walk away, but he
pushed her back down.
His face was red and he acted with no
shame.
She started to cry. I stepped in front of
her, and two other boys stepped in front
of him. I just couldnt let her get hurt one
more time.
Finally, a teacher came out and caught
the boy. As he was being dragged away,
he looked back at his girlfriend and me.
That was the last time we ever saw
him.
STEFANIE ALLEN, RUTLAND

What I see
Cant you see it? I ask myself.
Im searching for an image that to me
seems so impossible,
but apparently to others it is clear as day.
I am looking for a grown adult
but all I see is a little kid.
Shes got this model-like figure
but all I see is just some ugly person,
a girl thats popular
but all I see is a girl with two friends,
a girl with no acne and perfect make-up
but all I see is a girl covered in zits with
terrible make-up,
a smart girl
but all I see is a B+ average girl,
a girl thats always happy
but all I see is a girl with depression,
a girl that doesnt stress and is carefree
but all I see is a girl that has terrible
anxiety
and a girl that loves herself
but all I see is a girl that hates every part
of herself.
I dont see anything, I tell myself
Worst part is, I believe it, too.
SOPHIA TEDESCO, AGE 17, RUTLAND
Great game, ladies

Running down the court. Trying to get
ahead of her. She is going for a fast break
lay-up.
If she makes this one, her team wins.
If I block it, we go into overtime.
Push it, her coach says as she
dribbles down the court.
Run faster! Catch her! my coach
shouts.
I get in front of her, stop the shot and
steal the ball. I pass the ball to our point
guard and she takes the ball down the
court. Going down the court for a fast
break and she makes it.
The buzzer goes off and our team
cheers like crazy and the crowd goes
wild.
We line up to high-five the other team
and tell them, Good game! and then we
meet as a team in the hallway.
Our coach tells us, Great game,
ladies! I am so proud of you for making
this game a win and working as a team
and not just individual people.
We put our hands in and say, Win the
next game! Lets go, Coyotes!
And we throw our hands up.
MIRANDA SCOTT, AGE 13, BENSON
THIS WEEK: See & General

and New Hampshire. A team of staff and students selects the best writing and images for publication. This
week, we present responses to the challenges, See:
Write a story that begins with the phrase,Cant you
see it? & General writing.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
PARTNERS
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
Kevin Huang, Age 17, Burlington
NEXT WRITING CHALLENGES

Seuss. Write in rhyme! Create a cast of crazy characters! YWP honors the late Dr.
Seuss, who would have turned 112 on March 2. Alternate: Perspective: Tell a story
from the perspective or viewpoint of something unconventional: a chocolate bar, a
houseboat, a spider, etc. Due Feb. 19
Before: Think of one of your favorite places an old building in town or a barn
or a house. Now imagine this place 100 years ago or even 200 years ago. What did
it look like then? Tell a story. Alternate: Sound-Train: Listen to the sound clip on
youngwritersproject.org/prompts15-16 and write a story. Due Feb. 26
YWP NEWS
VERMONT WRITES DAY
IS WEDNESDAY, FEB. 10!
Stop everything to write for just seven

minutes! Find out more at youngwritersproject.org/vtwritesday2016.
Fleigengeister myth
It has finally been spotted, and I am
proud to say that I was the one to see it.
There have been rumors spreading around
this part of the country about this mysterious winged creature, and I now have
proof that it exists. This monster is the
Fleigengeister.
I remember my parents telling me all
about this thing for years and years, and I
often couldnt sleep at night. Recently, I
devoted two years of my life to living in
the woods, and I have found it. Its hard
to explain what it looks like, but Ill try
my best.
The giant winged creature resembles a
pterodactyl, something that has been extinct for millions of years. It has a gigantic pointed head, almost snake-like, with
large, yellow, glowing eyes. Its almost as
if it is staring through your soul. Its dark
green in color, most likely to disguise
itself and have a sense of camouflage.
On its torso, two large wings extend
from both sides. Its wing span has to be
an easy 18 feet across, but it just doesnt
seem real. At the moment, I remembered something from my childhood, the
Johnny Quest cartoons. In the opening
sequence, it showed this large dinosaur/
pterodactyl-looking thing. This monster
I was seeing came directly from that
cartoon.
Underneath it, there are two large,
three-toed feet, measuring an easy 36
inches in width and over 50 inches from
toe to heel. This leads me to believe that
it not only can fly, but it can also walk on
land, making it twice as dangerous.
Ladies and gentleman, I am telling you
this in strict confidence as a friend. Dont
do what I did. Dont go into the woods
alone because you will see this thing, and
you will not like it.
MATTHEW CREED, AGE 14, RUTLAND
Guard your heart

It was the eyes, chocolate brown and
always searching, that warned me to beware, to guard my heart with everything
I had, to not let go and give in for fear of
losing the last piece of myself to heartbreak and misery.
It was the smile, always bright and
shining just for me that told me to look
below the surface for things I hadnt seen
in the past.
Then, it was the sweet words whispered that tempted me, that told me to
ignore my instincts and to actually let myself fall, that told me he is different from
the rest. This time will be better.
In the end, it wasnt his sweet words
or warm smile that convinced me, but
his open arms that let me know he would
catch me.
KATHRYN DUGAN, AGE 14, POULTNEY
Words
always searching, that warned me to stop.
Their urgency made me pause for a
nanosecond; however, I kept the steady
pace at which I was moving.
Soon after, doubt slithered into little
holes in my brain, causing my words to
run like a wet painting.
My tongue twisted and flipped, and I
tripped over the stream of words falling
out of my mouth.
I glanced over at the eyes again and
they seemed alarmed as if I had just set
off a bomb.
Thats when I realized that these words
that I was spitting out, the ones that were
causing sparked looks and locked jaws,
they were just words.
They werent physical punches that
leave black and blues, but they hurt all the
same, and the hurt lasted much longer.
Thats what these eyes were telling me.
Thats why they wanted me to stop.
THIS WEEK: Eyes

hundred submissions from students. A team of staff
and students selects the best local writing and images for publication. This week, we present responses
to the challenge, Eyes: It was the eyes, chocolate
brown and always searching, that warned me to
Finish the scene. More at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
AMY E. TARRANT
FOUNDATION
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
NATALIE BARTON, AGE 16, BRADFORD
Dont do it
always searching, that warned me to not
eat the last homemade chocolate chip
cookie.
MICHAEL BLAIS, AGE 14, MOUNT HOLLY
VERMONT WRITES DAY

IS WEDNESDAY, FEB. 10!
Stop everything to write for just seven

minutes! Find out more at youngwritersproject.org/vtwritesday2016.
Outed

always searching, that warned me to back
away. Youve gone far enough, they tell
me. Theres no need.
But I am impatient. I have waited long
enough. And for now, I cant listen to
those chocolate brown eyes.
Yes, I say to my mother. Yes, we
are. I turn from the eyes to my mother,
whose eyebrows shoot up her forehead in
confusion and shock.
Minnie, the other one says. Her
voice is scratchy and small. Minnie, just
wait.
Mom, were dating.
And now, my mothers eyes darken to
a severity I almost dont recognize. They
havent looked that way since my brother
told her he was dropping out of college.
But this time, theyre directed at me, and
I almost wish I had listened to those eyes.
Minerva, what are you saying? she
says, voice low and threatening.
I draw myself up to my full height.
Olive and I. Were dating. I can feel
Olive tense next to me, but Im done. Im
past caring. Ive held this in for so long
that Im surprised I havent let it out yet.
Then, stillness. Silence. I swallow and
wait. My mother doesnt move a muscle.
Anxious, I look into the brown eyes that
so often search mine, looking for comfort,
but am instead stunned. I recognize those
eyes better than my own. They help me to
know Im on the right path. They console
me, they calm me, they release me. And
theyve changed. Theyve blurred with
angry tears. Those chocolate brown eyes
are hard and unforgiving. Those chocolate
brown eyes look like they dont want to
help me anymore. Theyre telling me to
leave and never come back.
Ol-Olive, I say, hoping, but she just
shakes her head. She turns. She walks
away. And before I know it, shes out the
door, taking those chocolate brown eyes
with her.
EMMA BAUER, AGE 16, STRAFFORD
Greenwood Space Travel Supply Co., Los Paseos (Creative Commons)
Time travel store

I was with some friends when we saw
an ad on TV for a space travel store. We
thought it was stupid, but we were all
really curious about it, so we decided to
go see it. The store was about two hours
away and we hoped it would be worth it.
... It looked like a regular store except that
there were less people going in and out.
Anyway, we walked in. It had the
weirdest smell, and everything looked like
it had an inch of dust on it, almost like
no one had been in there for years. There
were items all over the shelves that were
either Space Travel Food or Space
Travel Clothes. It looked like the entire
store was full of cheap items.
I saw one of the employees (who
looked just as old as the store) walk
into the back room, and then I heard a
loud noise. It was a big rumble like an
earthquake. I told my friends this and we
decided to devise a plan to see what was
back there. Some of my friends were the
distractors and the rest of us investigated.
When we were in the secret room, we saw
a huge machine, and Im pretty sure all of
our first thoughts were that this was a time
machine. To make sure, we had to test it.
So I walked into it, and I got really dizzy
really quickly. I was spinning into what
looked like nothing. Then I was back at
the store, but I was outside, and everything
looked newer. I realized that I had time
traveled, and I needed to get back. Then
a couple of my friends popped up behind
me. We were all confused, but we had to
get back inside that time machine to get
to the present. ... We were going to give
up and wait it out when we saw a guy put
a sign on the window of the store, Sign
Up to Time Travel Today! That would be
our only opportunity; so we all signed up.
... Finally we took the trip to the present.
Again, the dizzy sensation came back. We
walked out of the back room and saw the
same employees, but they were older. We
saw our friends and it felt like we hadnt
seen them in a while, but it had only been
a couple minutes.
On our way out, the employees gave us
a wave and a wink because they knew us.
They knew that we believed in time travel.
I guess the store was full of cheap inventory and a few real secrets.
JOEY GIANCOLA, AGE 13, RUTLAND
THIS WEEK: Space Travel

hundred submissions from students. A team of staff,
mentors and students selects the best local writing and
images for publication. This week, we present responses to the challenge, Photo-Space Travel: Write
about the photo, Greenwood Space Travel Supply Co.
Read more great writing at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

INTERACTIVE AUTHOR TALKS
Author S.S. Taylor
SATURDAY, JAN. 30, 2 P.M.

YWP & VT DEPT. OF LIBRARIES
PRESENT THE FIRST IN A SERIES OF
VERMONT INTERACTIVE AUTHOR TALKS
FEATURING S.S. TAYLOR

AUTHOR OF THE EXPEDITIONERS
VERMONT BUSINESS
ROUNDTABLE
Check it out by video conference

at Rutland Free Library
youngwritersproject.org/taylortalk
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
READ THE JANUARY ISSUE

Kaleb Aiken, Essex High School
Visit history
Cant you see it? Going into time and
visiting historic places? You can see
so many things, such as the pyramids
as theyre being made and how theyre
made. Well, now you can do it with the
T-26c, a machine that runs on complete
nuclear energy. Our time machine is
completely safe-tested by scientists. We
have been working on this invention for
more than 10 years. The T-26c is split up
into three parts: the main car, the compli-
mentary diner, and the sleeping room, just

in case you want to take a nice, comfortable nap. The trip costs between $100 and
$1,000, depending on how far back you
want to go. The average length of time to
travel is around three hours.
During your visit, you might meet
historical people, such as George Washington, Leonardo da Vinci, Beethoven,
and even King Tut. In the process of
traveling through time, you must visit our
diner section.
CHANCE PASSMORE, AGE 13, PROCTOR
THE VOICE
WRITING CHALLENGE
Seuss. Write in rhyme! Create a cast of
crazy characters! YWP honors the late
Dr. Seuss, who would have turned 112 on
March 2. Alternate: Perspective: Tell a
story from the perspective or viewpoint
of something unconventional: a chocolate
bar, houseboat, spider, etc. Due Feb. 19
Ghost
Im in a dark room and the taste of dust

brushes against my tongue as I open my
mouth in shock.
I cant see anything and the room is
getting colder and colder. I try to lift up
my arm to find my jacket, but its too
stiff. I try to move my legs, but theyre
still shaking. The only thing I can move
are my ice-cold eyes. I glance around the
room, hoping to find clues as to where I
am. But I still cant see anything.
Am I even alive?
I feel hands lightly brush along my
shoulder and I get goosebumps all over.
My body starts shivering so much that
Im shaking, not only because Im cold,
but afraid. I open my mouth to yell, but
no sound comes out. I try to move again,
but Im still too stiff. I want to burst into
tears, but my face is frozen. Everything in
my body has just shut down. But why?
Where am I? I want to leave this place.
I want to jump out of my own skin and
run away from this crazy nightmare. I
feel trapped and alone in this dark place. I
hate being trapped in small places.
I shut my eyes, and I can finally feel
myself breathing again. I just dont dare
open my eyes.
I can feel ice-cold breezes rushing in
all directions. I close my eyes tighter and
the winds get heavier, but I start to get
warmer. I can just barely move my left
arm, and my legs can finally bend again. I
very slowly open my eyes, and theres the
ghost thats been haunting me.
THIS WEEK: Monologue

hundred submissions from students. A team of staff,
mentors and students selects the best local writing
and images for publication. This week, we present responses to the challenge, Monologue: Write a monologue of a person who is troubled or conflicted about
something. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT

THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
BURLINGTON TELECOM
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
ERIN MCCLALLEN, AGE 14, RUTLAND
Searching
Its such an easy task, I dont even know
why I stress out over this.
A daily necessity, yet I still seem to
struggle.
School has just ruined my whole mind.
My mother tries to console me,
telling me to just hurry up.
My father just laughs,
thinking that Im joking around.
My little brother tries to help, but actually
makes it worse.
My mind is always cluttered,
making simple tasks difficult,
just like this one.
My troubled self cant handle
anything right now.
I finally just close my eyes
and reach out my arm.
My hand finds some cut-up fruit.
Guess this is what Ill have for lunch.
CAYLEIGH OCONNELL, AGE 16, CORINTH
VERMONT INTERACTIVE AUTHOR TALKS

SATURDAY, JAN. 30, 2 P.M.
YWP & the VT Department of
Libraries present the first in a series
of Vermont Interactive Author Talks
featuring S.S. Taylor, author of The
Expeditioners. Check it out by video
conference at Rutland Free Library.
Author S.S. Taylor
More info: youngwritersproject.org/taylortalk
Its him
What do I do? I have no idea. Whatever it is, I cant continue to talk to myself.
People probably think Im crazy sitting
here with my eyes wandering everywhere.
I never should have done it. Why
did I go to that party in the first place? I
never knew that one little decision could
destroy everything all at once. I think for
a minute. Everything was fine when I was
there. Everyone was drinking so I thought
a couple drinks couldnt hurt. I started off
with a shot, then two, then three, then I
was in the car.
I open my eyes. I dont know where
I am. All I know is I want to leave, but
where do I go? My moms been in the
hospital for weeks and my dad, well who
knows where he is. When I was little, it
was all about time. One day he said hed
be back in a week, then the next time it
was a month, and one day he just never
came back. I dont remember his face, but
I remember him kissing me goodnight the
night before he left, and saying goodbye.
I start to drive. I am still dizzy from the
night before although I dont really know
what time it is, so it could be an hour ago.
I close my eyes for a minute and start
spinning. Is it in my head? All I hear is a
screech. It sounds like someones scratching a chalkboard. I open my eyes when it
ends. Its real. My hearts pounding, my
heads spinning and my bodys shaking.
My car is off the road. I get out and walk
across the road to see what I have hit. Its
another car.
Theres a car seat, but the babys not
breathing. The drivers eyes are open but
shes bleeding. I start to cry. What have
I done? What do I do? Whats going to
happen? My hearts still pounding, my
head still spinning and my body still
shaking. I am in shock. I start running.
Now Im here sitting on this bench with
all these people looking at me. Do they
know? What if it is their wife and son? A
police officer walks up to me and asks if
I will come down to the station so he can
ask me a few questions.
Now Im sitting in a room. An officer
asks me my name and I reply, Alyssa
Corbett. He tells me that the detective
will be in to talk to me.
He walks in.Good morning, Im
Agent Corbett. Its him. Its his voice.
My dad.
EMILEE SWEATT, AGE 14, BENSON

& THE VOICE
THIS WEEK: Photo & General
Three girls,
three personalities
After getting my regular hot chocolate
and cheesecake square at the cafe, I head
outside. I pick a table and settle down in
the cold, metal chair.
I take a sip and look around. At the
table on my left, there is a family of four;
two people, who I assume are the parents,
are talking and drinking coffee.
The girl and boy, who look like twins,
both sip what looks like hot chocolate and
chomp on a donut twist.
On my right, there is a couple, talking.
They look like they are about 18. They
make funny faces at each other, hoping to
make each other laugh.
I dont bother to look behind me, but in
front of me, there are three girls.
One girl has sunglasses on and she
looks like she is staring at me.
She looks like she doesnt want to be
at the table with the other two girls. She
has that look like when people want to
leave a place as fast as they can.
She looks like a girl who thinks she
is nice all the time but is really always
mean. The only things that come out of
her mouth are sassy things. Also, she
looks bored out of her mind.
On her right, there is a girl who has
an expression on her face that I cannot
read. Its something between hopeful and
happy.
She keeps looking around, like shes
waiting for someone. She wears a tiny
smile on her face. When she sees me
looking at her, her smile widens and she
waves cheerfully.
The third girl has bangs, but I cant see
her face because of her hand; its covering it.
She seems to be either looking at the
table or her drink. She looks like a shy
one.
The cheerful girl asks her a question.
The girl with bangs snaps her head up and
begins to talk, using her hands.
She seems excited. After she is done
answering, she blushes and looks back at
her drink.
It is amusing watching these girls.
I hear a beep; its my phone, so I have
to leave. I throw my trash away and walk
down Main Street wondering why those
girls were there. For a school project? A
meeting of some sort?
I smile and keep walking.
ATHENA EUBER, AGE 13, RUTLAND

hundred submissions from elementary to high school
students. A team of staff, mentors and students selects the best writing and images for publication. This
week, we present responses to the challenges to write
about the photo below, Three Different Reactions
Facing a Photographer; and General writing.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
BLUEBIRD BARBECUE
BURLINGTON
CHALLENGE: PHOTO-WOMEN
You should see me

My God, I miss you.
You should see me now.
Im a wreck.
My hair is so greasy,
snarls almost make my pin-straight hair
look curly.
Your hoodie is still wrapped around my
shoulders.
One sock on, one sock off.
The only thing that smells fresh is your
cologne that Ive been spraying.
Ive seen pictures of you, though.
You look great.
Your hair doesnt look at all greasy;
youve styled it for that new girl, right?
I remember when you used to do that for
me.
I remember when you used to call me and
say,
Im bored. Lets go to a movie. See you
in 10 minutes.
I remember when you used to wrap your
arms around me.
I remember your good morning texts,
calling me beautiful and precious.
My only wish is for you to remember me.
Remember how I supported you,
and ran my hands through your hair.
How I loved you.
No one else will ever love you as deeply
as I do.
RORY CARRARA, AGE 15, RUTLAND
Three Different Reactions Facing a Photographer, by Pedro Ribeiro Simoes. (Creative Commons license)
Canyon
The sky overhead is as blue and clear
as the ocean. Bright rays beam down on
my skin, invading my pores and extracting sweat that runs down my body like
the current of a river.
Over the distant crooked mountains I
see a few puffy clouds, almost like torn
cotton. I inhale the freshest air thats ever
entered my lungs.
All around me are rocky hills that cen-
turies of time have chipped away at.

I stand upon the edge of the cliff
observing the depths, thousands of feet
between me and the gravel at the bottom.
The jagged, sharp edges all descend to
one place and alongside them there is a
waterfall. Crashing-down water transforms into a crystal clear river that flows
for a long distance before disappearing
behind the curves and twists of this narrow canyon.
MYKLE LAPE, AGE 18, RUTLAND


YOUNG WRITERS PROJECT

WRITING CHALLENGES
January May 2016
Photo-Veggies.Artisan by Apionid. (Creative Commons

license)
18
Moment. Use this phrase in a

story: Never forget this moment, my child, the old man said Alternate: Photo-Veggies. Some people like
their vegetables to look just so Use the
photo above, Artisan, by Apionid to tell
a story. (Creative Commons license.) Due
Jan. 15
19
Connection. You open a love

letter that isnt addressed to you,
and the writer seems so familiar its as if
the letter was written just for you. What
goes through your head? Do you write
back? What do you say? Alternates: Ad.
Create a commercial advertising any
product, real or made up. Really sell it!
Add a sketch of the ad or product if you
like! OR Sound-Ice: Listen to the sound
in this challenge and write the story you
hear or use the clip and add others to create a soundscape. Due Jan. 22
20
Myth. Invent the wackiest urban

myth you can think of. Alternate: Love. They said I shouldnt love
you, but I couldnt help myself Why?
And what happens next? Due Jan. 29
21
Voicemail. Write a poem in the

form of a voicemail message.
If possible, make it rhyme! Now record
it! We want to hear it! Alternate: Superhero. Create your own superhero. Keep it
classic with a comic strip. Make a slideshow or a dramatic soundscape. Draw a
portrait. Or write a descriptive story. Due
Feb. 5
22
School. What is the best thing

and the worst thing about your
school? Suggest a practical solution to fix
the negative. Be proactive. Take charge!
Alternates: Sound-Typewriter. Listen to
Students, Grades 3-12, are encouraged to participate in Young

Writers Project by submitting best work done in or out of school,
and by responding to these weekly challenges. Check out youngwritersproject.org to start an account and join this community of
writers and photographers. Work is published in this and other
newspapers, YWPs anthology and digital magazine, The Voice,
VPR, VtDigger.org, cowbird.com and other media.
the sound in this challenge and use it to
inspire a story OR use this sound clip and
add others to create a soundscape; OR
General: Send us your best work of any
category or type that youve created in or
out of school. Due Feb. 12
23
Seuss. Write in rhyme! Create

a cast of crazy characters! YWP
honors the late Dr. Seuss, who would
have turned 112 on March 2. Alternate: Perspective. Tell a story from the
perspective or viewpoint of something
unconventional: a chocolate bar, a houseboat, a spider, etc.. Due Feb. 19
24
Before. Think of one of your

favorite places -- an old building
in town or a barn or a house. Now imagine this place 100 years ago or even 200
years ago. What did it look like then? Tell
a story Alternate: Sound-Train. Listen
to the sound clip on this challenge on the
site and write the story you hear or create
a soundscape using the clip and adding
others. Due Feb. 26
25
Clouds. Imagine you have the

ability to float up to and walk
on clouds -- and not fall through. What
do you do with this newfound power?
Alternates: Photo-SeaStairs. Use the
photo above right, Seapoint, Dublin, Ireland, by Giuseppe Milo to write a story.
(Creative Commons license) or General:
Send us your best work of any category
or type that youve created in or out of
school. Due March 4
26
Wishes. You come upon a wishing well. What kind of magic

happens at the bottom of a wishing well?
Who handles all these wishes and how?
Seapoint, Dublin, Ireland by Giuseppe Milo (Creative

Commons)
Alternate: Sound-Stirring. Listen to the

sound in this challenge and write the story
you hear or create a soundscape using this
and other sound clips. Due March 11
27
Fool. Its April Fools Day and

your character plays a trick that
has everyone at school laughing -- including the teachers. What is it and why is
it so funny? Alternate: Photo-Station.
What is the mood or atmosphere of the
photo top right, Fog at the Train Station, by Tambako the Jaguar? (Creative
Commons) Due March 18
28
Tweet. Tell a story in a tweet

(140-character segments). Alternate: Sound-Shower. Click on the audio
link on this challenge and write the story
you hear or use the sound clip and others
to create a soundscape. Due March 25
29
Humbling. I thought I knew

the answer, but finish the
sentence in a story of a real or imagined
experience. Alternate: Expectations. You
meet your biggest idol, --insert celebrity/
public figure here. Describe the meeting.
Is the person everything you had hoped
for or ? Due April 1
30
Experiment. Youve got a monkey in a cage, a basketball,
Fog at the Train Station, by Tambako the Jaguar. (Creative Commons)
a paperback of the latest YA craze, and a

bottle of pomegranate juice what kind
of experiment are you doing? What do
you hope to learn from it? (Feel free to
imagine your own wacky scenario). Alternates: Gate. Use this phrase in a story:
She slipped out the gate and started to
run or General. Send us your best
work of any category or type that youve
created in or out of school. n any genre.
Due April 8
31
Op-ed. Write an opinion piece

based on a current news story.
Take a side and make a persuasive argument. Try to keep it tight. Try to write it
in three paragraphs. Alternate: Awoke. I
awoke to the sound unleash a poem
with this line. Due April 15
32
Blue. It was the most brilliant

shade of blue Id ever seen
Work that phrase (or concept) into a poem
or story. Alternate: Framed. You have a
photograph of a meaningful moment. Describe it. But wait, theres more now
tell a story about whats just outside the
frame. Post the photo! Due April 22
33
Passage. You find a secret passage in the basement of your

grandfathers house. Where does it lead?
How does it change your perspective
about your family/grandfather? Alternate:
Surveillance. What do you think about
government or military surveillance?
When does it go too far? Due April 29
34
Back. Oh gosh, theyre back...

Write a story based on or using
that phrase. Alternates: Certain. Make a
list of 10 things you know for sure. You
can start your list with the words, This
I know It can be funny or serious; or
General writing. Due May 6
Listen
Listen, travelling soul,
our spirit guides stumbled upon
us with their ideas of
a twisted serendipity
the day that they
watched you enter
my life. The wind roared the words of a
sacred knowledge. The rain
leapt from the sky
with a passion unmatched
by a nun in prayer or
a blossoming rose hip after the frost, or
the
childs undying
curiosity.
I asked a lot of
questions and the
answers tasted like
moonlight tinged by the
unmistakable bitterness of
darkness and unknown.
Time froze before it ran out.

Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions from students across Vermont and around the
world. Our team of students and YWP staff selects
the best local writing and images for publication in
this and other newspapers. This week, we present
General writing in any genre. Read more great writing at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
Listen, familiar soul.

I send you silently
every unspoken questionthey cling to the shadows
of the streetlamps and
the soundwaves of the
night.
PHYSICIANS COMPUTER
COMPANY
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
WITH POET RAJNII EDDINS

FRIDAY, JAN. 8
5:30 P.M.
Winter
Carrots, buttons, scarves

Freezing children making a snowman
Frosty the snowman
BREANNA JOHNSON, AGE 13, SHREWSBURY
THE VOICE
PERFORMANCE WRITING
WORKSHOP
TESSIE MCDONNELL, AGE 18, RUTLAND
Snowman

I will wait and hope you

return to me singing and strumming your
broken chords, so
together we can dance to the rhythm of
unspoken answers and the sounds of
the storm.
Snows first fall

Frigid, white, wispy
Dropping snowflakes
winter is beginning.
YWP NEWS & EVENTS
Kevin Huang, Age 17, Burlington, VT
Vermont
Living in Vermont
has its certain charms,
whether it be the colorful trees
or the busy, bustling farms.
I see the mountains all around me
and I know that I am home;
this is the safest place
that I have ever known.
Everything that is here

is slow and so laid back,
but not behind the times
just on a different track.
Wherever I am in the world,
whatever I may go through,
I will never forget my time
in the wonderful 802.
HEATHER MCMANUS, AGE 18, RUTLAND
YWP HEADQUARTERS
47 MAPLE ST., SUITE 106,
BURLINGTON
FOLLOWED BY OPEN MIC
FOR MIDDLE & HIGH SCHOOLERS
6:30 P.M.
MAGLIANEROS CAFE
(ALSO AT 47 MAPLE ST.)
READ MORE GREAT WRITING

AT YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG
& THE VOICE
THIS WEEK: Sports & Fame
Basefootski
If I had the chance to invent a new
sport, it would be called basefootski.
This is how it would work: The quarterback would stand at the top of a ski
slope, and the skiing receiver would start
skiing down.
As the receiver was skiing, the quarterback would throw a football to the skiing
receiver.
The goal, obviously, is to catch the
ball.
You get different numbers of points
depending on how far you are from the
top of the hill when you catch the ball,
and how fast you are going when you
catch the ball.
At the pro levels, it would be played
with a NBL (National Basefootski
League) regulation football. It would
be similar to an NFL ball, except that it
would be more aerodynamic so it would
go farther.
A team would be made up of six
people, a starting quarterback, a starting
skiing receiver, and two sets of backups.
The league would have hundreds of
teams. The regular season would be from
November to March, and teams would
play 91 games. The playoffs would start
in April. The final game would be the
world series, and it would be played in
May. At pro levels this sport would be
played on a very steep slope, in a western
ski area usually.
Here is where the baseball part comes
in. It would be played in innings, just
like baseball. One team would get three
outs. An out would be when there is an
incomplete pass.
After three outs, the opposing team
would go, and after their three outs, that
would be one inning. One game would
be 25 innings. If the catch is 20 to 30
yards from the top of the hill, it would be
1 point. If it is 31-40 yards from the top
it would be 2 points, 41-50 would be 3
points, 51-60 would be 4 points, 61-80
would be 5, 80-100 would be 6, and 100
plus would be 7 points.
Players have to be moving at least 30
mph when they catch the ball to qualify to
get points. Whoever has the most points
at the end of the game is the winner. If
the game is tied at the end, it will go into
extra innings until someone wins.
BENJAMIN PENCAK , AGE 13, RUTLAND

&
THE VOICE
Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions from students in Vermont, across the U.S. and
other countries. A team of staff, mentors and students
selects the best local writing and images for publication here. This week, we present responses to Sports:
Invent a new sport; and Fame: Write about a character who is suddenly famous.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
MAIN STREET LANDING
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
Decisions
I wake up and rub my eyes. I jump into
the shower and let the hot water relax my
muscles and wake me up. I get dressed
and head downstairs. I go into the kitchen
and grab an apple and my backpack.
Bye Mom, Im heading to school! I
shout.
Sweetie, you might not want to ...
she yells, running down the hallway.
She is interrupted by the yelling of paparazzi and the flashing of lights as they
photograph me trying to close the door.
What are they doing here? I ask my
mom.
Honey, remember when you did that
dance at your competition? Well, someone recorded it and posted it on YouTube.
I got a few letters this morning, one from
the Joffrey Ballet School; you got early
acceptance. And one from a producer
who wants you for a movie. Sweetie,
your video is all over the Internet. Youre
famous.
But what if I dont want to be? What
if I want to be normal, fly under the radar? I dont want to go to a fancy school
or be in a movie. I just want to dance.
Dont tell me you are going to give
this up, my mother says, getting angry.
I dont know, I whisper, and I run
back upstairs and head to the room at the
end of the hall, an empty room I use as
my dance room.
One wall is lined with mirrors and I
have a ballet bar as well. The wall next to
the mirrors has four windows that flood
the room with light. I change into spandex and a tank top.
I cry as I dance, blurring my view of
my steps in the mirror. I dance until my
entire body is sore and aching. I collapse
onto the floor, trying to control my emotions. I have the hardest decision to make;
give up what I love and live a normal
life, or be constantly under scrutiny but
be dancing in front of millions of adoring
people. I cant win.
KATHRYN DUGAN, AGE 13, POULTNEY
Lydia Smith, Age 18, Charlotte
Starstruck
The lights, the cameras, its all going too
fast.
That old life of mine, now its all in the
past.
How does one simple action change it all?
Im so dizzy, I feel like I might fall.
With these cameras in my face, it feels

like a blur.
How do I feel? Im not really sure.
This popularity, its all kind of lame.
I guess thats what happens when youre
struck with fame.
RACHEL GREGORY, AGE 12, RUTLAND
THIS WEEK: Footsteps & General
Being first
First that comment you see on almost
every video, Instagram photo and everything else.
Then theres the reply on that comment
saying how it doesnt matter that youre
first, or that youre twenty-seventh, not
first.
No matter how annoying it is, you
learn to deal with it, those 10 comments
in a row of people claiming that theyre
first.
And who knows who started this trend,
and who knows wholl end it? Its been
around for a while, and it doesnt look
like its going anywhere.
Imagine if something was posted five
seconds ago, and its your chance to
show that youre early.
You press comment, and tap the letters, f-i-r-s-t. Maybe even add an emoji
for some flare.
Theres that adrenaline you feel in your
chest, the feeling that you were first, and
you were the first to see it.
Its a time to rejoice, but then you see
that someone else commented before you.
The joyous feeling in your stomach melts
into a puddle.
Someone else was here before you,
saw this post before you, and you didnt
notice. But then you realize, I can be the
first like!
Its fun to feel special, like the greatest
person on earth, but it cant always be a
reality.
Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions from students across Vermont, and around the
world. A team of staff, mentors and students selects
the best writing and images for publication. This
week, we present responses to the sound prompt,
Footsteps, & General writing. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP
YWP is supported by this newspaper and foundations, businesses and

individuals who recognize the power
and value of writing. If you would
like to contribute, please go to youngwritersproject.org/support, or mail
your donation to YWP, 47 Maple St.,
Suite 106, Burlington, VT 05401.
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
RACHEL GREGORY, AGE 12, RUTLAND
Ghost
There she is
There she is. Shes the most beautiful
doe I have ever seen.
I chase her, crunching through the
woods. She enters a field without hesitating to step out into the open.
I stop and wait to make sure its safe.
After a second, I step out into the open;
the leaves crunch under my hooves. As I
step out, I look up at that doe.
Crunch! She takes another step.
I put my head down to eat some grass.
Crunch! I look up again; she hasnt
moved. I look around. I dont see anything.
Bang! I drop. Im unable to move. I
watch that beautiful doe jet back into the
woods.
I try to move; I try to see where the
shot came from, but I cant.
I thrash my antlers, trying to get away.
I see two dark shapes coming toward me.
I hear a voice shout, I think I shot the
doe, Papa!
Then I hear, Its a buck! Oh my gosh,
its a buck!
Thats when I realize these are my last
breaths.
The hunters are standing right over me
now. Im moving my antlers trying to get
up to run but I cant.
I hear the big hunter speak for the first
time now.
He says, Shoot it again. I just dont
want it to get up and run.
I watch as the little hunter raises the
gun. Then bang!
The last thing I remember hearing was:
Hes huge!
Congratulations!
JILLIAN STUART, AGE 13, BENSON
Im in a dark room and the taste of dust

is brushing against my tongue as I open
my mouth in shock. I cant see anything
and the room keeps getting colder and
colder.
I try to lift up my arm to try to find my
jacket, but its too stiff. I try to move my
legs, but theyre still shaking.
The only things I can move are my
ice cold eyes. I glance around the room,
hoping to find clues as to where I am. But
I still cant see anything.
Am I even alive? I start to wonder.
I feel hands lightly brush along my
shoulder, and I get goosebumps all over.
My body starts shivering, so much that
Im shaking, not only because Im cold,
but Im also afraid.
I open my mouth to yell, but no sound
comes out. I try to move again, but Im
still too stiff.
(continued >>)
Madi Cohen, Age 13, Bolton
I want to burst in tears, but my face is

frozen. Everything in my body just shuts
down. But why? Where even am I?
I want to leave this place. I want to
jump out of my own skin and run away
from this crazy nightmare.
I feel trapped and alone in this dark
place. I hate being trapped in small
places.
I shut my eyes and I can finally feel
myself breathing again. I just dont dare
open my eyes again.
I can feel icy breezes rushing in all
directions.
I close my eyes tighter and the winds
get heavier, but I start to get warmer.
I can just barely move my left arm,
and my legs can finally bend again.
I very slowly open my eyes and there
is the ghost thats been haunting me...
ERIN MCCLALLEN, AGE 14, RUTLAND
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YWPS DIGITAL MAGAZINE
EVERY MONTH
The eternal chase

The sun loved the moon,
but they were apart.
The moon disappeared
with every days start.
The sun shined so bright
to guide the moon home.
By the time the moon showed,
the sun was long gone.
How they longed for each other,
yet the timing was off,
an eternal chase
for a love that wouldnt stop.
With the sun to your back,
you look to the sky;
a small crescent moon
catches your eye.
The moon is quite vague
but there, nonetheless,
to long for its love
until the sun lays to rest.
The sky starts to darken;
the moon gets so close.
But the one thing thats gone
is the one wanted most.
An eternal chase commences
at dawn each day,
but the darkness of dusk
hides the sun away.
THIS WEEK: Photo-Ghost & General

Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions from students across the country. A team of
staff, mentors and students selects the best local writing and images for publication here. This week, we
present responses to the challenge to write about the
photo, My Ghost, and General writing. Read more
at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
BURLINGTON TELECOM
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
All for six points

On the ride to the game,
you get the coolest feeling,
the feeling of excitement
like butterflies are in your belly.
When you get to the field,
you get very nervous.
You dont want to let your fans down.
You play your heart out for 32 minutes.
The game is going your way,
but then he gets hurt, your friend.
You have to step up and fill his spot.
You try your best.
When he comes back in,
the team is on the 5.
He gets the ball and he takes off like a jet.
They try to catch him when all might fail.
But they try and it doesnt go well.
He gets to the 40 and on to the 50.
When they start to dive, to try to make it,
he gets to the 10 and makes it in.
He runs his heart out for only six points.
He loves the game just like everyone else.
Wed die for this game,
just for the right to call ourselves the best.
DYLAN LEE, AGE 14, BENSON
For the monkey

For the monkey, I am sorry
because he has one wish,
because I am a cat,
because the fish is my dish
and the cat will never get dinner
so the monkey makes his wish.
And the trees all start dancing
and the ground will rumble so
and send the nuts and berries prancing
and make all the trees say, Oh.
The cow will decide to enter
the butchers evil palace
and find that something put an end
to all that slaughtering malice.
There is no more hamburger
and the people they all scream
cause the cows they went on strike
and they cant even get cream.
So the cat goes on strike
even though hes not important
because there is no milk
and he gets sucked up in the torrent.
The chickens learn karate;
the humans take up guns.
The horses join the party;
the cat joins in the fun.
The humans started the war
and the animals will end it
because everyone knows that
animals outnumber by 75 percent.
So when the war is over,
the world falls into chaos
and almost all of them fall over
like a catastrophic seance.
And the cat gets his dinner
and the monkey gets his wish.
Humanity is over
and the fish is still my dish.
LUKE ZELIS, AGE 13, BRANDON
Audrey Ely, Age 14, Barre
We all have a ghost

We all have one something that
follows us around everywhere we go. It
affects our every move. Some of us allow
it to take control of us. The doctors like
to call those people anorexic, bulimic, or
most commonly just depressed.
Fortunately, they know how to scare
the ghosts. They treat the ghosts until they
learn to love and care for their bodies.
They didnt mean to mistreat themselves though. It was society that told
them they didnt fit and thats what turned
Photo-Ghost.
My Ghost, Matt
Wilson. (Creative
Commons)
the ghosts bad. We all have ghosts; how

will you let society affect yours?
EMILY HATHAWAY, AGE 13, BRANDON

Precious things
BY EMMA SUKER, AGE 11, SHREWSBURY
If I told you that you had to move suddenly and you could only bring a small
box, what would you bring?
I would take the things that are most
important to me.
I love skiing with my dad so the first
item I would bring is the skier necklace
he gave to me.
My T-shirt that says, Im Too Cute To
Throw Back, would go in the box next;
my grandpa got it for me when I was a
baby. He died, and when I look at it, I am
able to remember him better.
The first trophy I ever won was my
Sportsmanship Award, and I was really
proud of myself, so I would definitely put
it in the box.
Last, my model horses would go in
the box; my model horses are fun to play
with because I love horses a lot. They
would go in the box last.
After that, my box would be full and I
would be ready to move.
Sport of runners
THIS WEEK: Things & Sports
YWP NEWS & EVENTS
Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions from students across the country. This week,
we present local writers responses to the challenges,
Things: You have to move and pack only one box;
what would you pack? and Sports: What sport would
you create if given the chance? Read more great writing at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
DISH CATERING
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
BY MICHAEL BLAIS, AGE 13, MOUNT

HOLLY
If I were to make a sport it would be
a combination of cross-country and track
and field. This sport would be called cross
running because it is a cross between two
sports that involve running.
It would mostly be like cross-country
training. Training would start about 1
months before the first meet.
You would run multiple distances so
you trick your body into getting stronger.
All meets would have to be on Saturdays
because the events are long and would
take all day.
In the meets there would be six events,
the mile, 1.5 mile, 3.1 mile, 6.2 mile, and
10 mile races, and then the mile-long
jump.
For the mile-long jump you would run
a mile, then jump as far as you could into
a sand pit, similar to the long jump in
track and field. The distances would be
recorded and the longest jump would win.
The events would take place at a field
that had at least a three-mile course in order to qualify to host a meet. In between
events your team could bring food or
bring a football to throw around. At the
end of the meet there would be an award
ceremony to honor the top five in each
event. First place would be a gold medal,
second would be silver, third would be
bronze, fourth would be copper, and fifth
would be nickel.
Madi Cohen, Bolton
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The things I would take

BY BREANNA JOHNSON, AGE 13, SHREWSBURY
If I had to rush out of my house and only had a small box to put things in, it would
be hard to pick what to put in the box. I would take my horses shoes because my
horses mean a lot to me. The shoes were on my horse when we got him and we took
them off for winter. Now they are hanging on my wall.
I also would want to take my photo album because it has pictures of me and my
horses and my family. I received it when I turned 6.
I would have to take my baby blanket that my great-grandmother made for me. I
would also take my phone so I could call people for help in case we got lost or hurt. I
also think I would take my necklace that is a horse with my birthstone.
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Is it worth it?
Is higher education worth the cost?
For higher education, whether its worth
the cost or not,
you need to be ready for a fight,
a challenge, you may say.
School is a battle.
Thats one.
One punch in a boxing ring.
Poe, Anderson, Dickinson,
who limit your ability,
the deadline
forcing you to stay in the box,
continuing to fight.
You vs. Teacher.
You vs. Classmate.
You vs. School Work.
You vs. Confidence.
And You need to win.
But school is a battle in itself;
trying to afford school and win the battle?
Thats two.
Two jabs when one was already enough.
Your words were already twisted with the
English Literature assignments, but now
with your mouth and tongue a jumble,
theres no way youll be able to pick up
that extra shift.
Trying to make ends meet
while finding a front row seat,
It isnt easy.
Calvin Coolidge did both.
Perseverance,
strength,
motivation
are just some
of the things he needed to win the round,
which seems never-ending.
He never did buckle,
and neither will I.
The cost of higher education will be
worth it for me,
I promise you.
I will put in the time and energy to succeed in school;
your money will be worth my education.
Ill do my best, and I think thats worth
the cost.
THIS WEEK: Emotion & General

present responses to the prompts, Emotion: Describe
an intense emotion; and General writing in any
genre. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.
Tiring sleep
Eats away the time, like juicy, nasty
termites,
wriggling and gnawing at a dying tree
(the tissues of your brain).
Toss, turn, toss, turn
Creasing the ironed bed sheets.
Your head might split in half
like a Golem-chiseled rock.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Suddenly so clammy, too hot,

kicking at the covers,
thrown into Satans crock pot,
clinging to your pillow, as you drown.
ADVANCE MUSIC
Please stop!
Rip out the guts of the watch
as your insides knot and knot.
A sickeningly twisted roller coaster ride.
Up, down, up, down
Around, around, around
SANDRA GUYETTE, AGE 16, SHREWSBURY
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

READ MORE
GREAT WRITING AT
& THE VOICE
DONT MISS YWPS SLAM

& OPEN MIC NIGHTS
MAGLIANEROS CAFE
47 MAPLE STREET, BURLINGTON

THE VOICE
Crab
I think its kind of rude to swap my occupied sign to lonely without my permission ... I wrote about you like you were a
present but now my pen knows you as a
memory.
If mud sliding and sports-bra wearing
were metaphors for anything, it would be
home. And if home was a metaphor for
anything, it would probably feel like the
farthest island away from your ego.
I want to stay up all night with slam poets
and Emily Dickinson
writing poetry; I want to watch the
stars constell, the sun rise so it can get
a nice view of the world; I want to sing
lullabyes to what we never put down so it
sounds asleep.
I no longer listen to songs and pretend
youre singing them to me.
Youre hundreds of morning runs away,
and now Im ready to make it thousands.
When you told me safety is a social construct, I pictured you with your arms out
anyway. Now I just think of you walking
away.
present responses to the challenge, General writing:
Write about anything in any genre. Read more great
writing at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
BURLINGTON TELECOM
YWP NEWS
SATURDAY, NOV. 7
Featuring Vermonts new Poet Laureate

Chard deNiord, left, and 2015 Vermont
Book Award winner Kerrin McCadden,
right.
FULL DAY OF WORKSHOPS

& RELEASE OF ANTHOLOGY 7
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
You made everything a construction project that was built way too quickly with no
base; lackadaisical causes collapse.
VERMONT COLLEGE OF FINE ARTS

MONTPELIER
BC you were a person.

AD you were a letter.
Now youre ...
beginning to seem like something to write
about.
I feel like you only left for a poem in
your name so you could feel like you left
something.
To register and for more information:

You made me the Brown-Eyed Girl, 17

going on 12, when you ran out.
I pictured you with your arms out and fell
into my own.
I wrote to you like you were my diary.
We all know diaries dont write back.
Kevin Huang, Age 17, Burllington
The tally of hours in my running log

could be used to find you again, but I am
done searching. I felt like we were living
out metaphors until they didnt make
sense and you smacked me in the head
with logic. If I thought love was a washing machine cycle, then you pulled me
out and let me air-dry in the desert.
I dont know much about zodiac signs,
but I know were both cancer-ous. I
thought one of us could be the crab shell
and the other its guts, but being crabby
continued>>
doesnt work when we cant even walk

forward, and my shell is too soft for you
anyway.
I used to look at the mountains. They
reminded me of your chest spread out,
comfortable, yet smug. I saw your muscular hands reaching over the clouds, one
finger at a time; the stars were my hair.
Now I look at the mountains and see the
world around me. You are not as big as I
thought you were.
I wanted you to ask about my idiosyncrasies and point out my flaws like they
were daydreams. I wanted you to see me
shivering, wrap your sky around me, and
ask about my poetry.
But I wanted a dream.
And you are not a dream.
You are a cloudy sky that I havent seen
in awhile.
ALIYA SCHNEIDER, AGE 17, RUTLAND
DONT MISS THE NEXT ISSUE

COMING NOV. 12!
The regular,
everyday things
Teenagers are a mixture of contrasting
characters, and in Vermont we are no
different.
But in Vermont, we experience the best
things in life:
Getting up early to make it to our small
schools down curved back roads,
and taking unique opportunities by the
hand.
Sitting around the lunch table and asking
people to say Vermont and determining
if they are a true Vermonter after a few
laughs.
Marveling at the weird southern slang
like yall, and sprinkles also known as
Jimmies.
But we dont notice how creemees exist
only in our realm.
The long drives from our small towns to a
place with actual traffic lights,
and we end up with our simple needs that
arent available close to home.
Having fun conversations with your familys friend,
who is also the local owner of the general
store.
We complain about the endless torment of
the changing seasons,
but enjoy them while they last.
Bringing in firewood from the frigid
winter air,
and heating our old farmhouse in the
middle of a field.
Watching the leaves change colors,
and building the annual leaf piles with
friends.
Getting up early and having bacon and
eggs for breakfast,
while loading all of the hunting gear into
the truck.
Stomping our boots in the mud puddles,
and listening to lectures about cleaning
the muddy footprints off the floor.
Signing our names on the sports roster,
and saying our good-byes after a season
of growing together.
Waiting anxiously for the summer
months,
and spending every day at the lake.
Getting that terrible sunburn,
but knowing its okay because its not
permanent and you wont let it happen
again next year.
These things are what makes us teenagers,
and in Vermont it is even more unique.
SYDNEY BENNETT, AGE 14, BENSON
THIS WEEK: 802 & General

staff, mentors and students selects the best local
writing and images for publication here. This week,
we present responses to the challenges, 802: Whats it
like to be a teenager in Vermont?& General writing:
Write about anything in any genre.
ABOUT THE PROJECT

THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
PARTNERS
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
Nights are colder

Summer nights with you were crazy.
Just plain crazy.
I mean, who knew your hair was so soft?
Or who knew that the compliments rolled
off your tongue and, boy, they were sweet
as sugar.
Who knew that youd actually like the
taste of my Chapstick?
I mean, he never did.
Summer nights were chilly but you made

sure I was warm.
By September,
I knew the ridges to your hands and the
complexity to your fingerprints.
I knew that you loved chocolate ice cream
and iced tea,
but not as much as you love fishing.
By September, though,
you and I were history.
Just plain history.
Summer nights made my head swirl and
my mind wander.
They made me forget the past, yet dream
about the future.
Now these cold October nights make me
miss summer.
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

SATURDAY, NOV. 7
JOIN YWPS
ONLINE COMMUNITY!
STUDENTS, GRADES 3-12: Sign

up today for an account on YWPs
website to share your writing, photos,
videos & audio!

MONTPELIER
THIS WEEK: General & 35
When I am 35...
When I am 35,
I will be all grown.
Ill be far away
from the only home Ive known.
I will live somewhere nice,
and have a career that I love.
I will place my family first,
with nothing else above.
Thirty-five is far away
and changes do occur.
If I am anything at 35,
Id be happy and secure.
Thirty-five
I hope Im around when Im 35. I would
like to be 35.
Making it to 19 was hard enough.
I know, more teenage melodrama.
Youre young, they say. This is your
prime. Someday youll call these the good
old days.
What is good about them, exactly?
Im not saying Im never happy. I feel the
rain on my skin. I can taste the sweetness
of phlox when I breathe it in. My dogs
fur is always soft and my cat purrs warm
against my back when Im in bed.
But there are break-ups breakdowns broken families heartbreak.
When Im 35, I hope all that is over.
When Im 35, I hope it is more rain and
phlox than heartbreak.
When Im 35, I hope my writing will
encourage the world, or at least a small
part of it.
When Im 35, I hope Ive found true love
thats better than Disney, better than anything Ive seen/heard/felt at 19.
When Im 35, I hope Ill be holding my
childrens faces in my hands, awed by the
miracle of their being.
When Im 35, I hope I still look out the
window at the morning mist huddled over
these Green Mountains as a golden sun
brims, or that I can at least come home
to it.
When Im 35, I hope that these scars on
my arms will have faded to nonexistence,
and that I will barely remember that they
were ever there.
When Im 35, I hope I will have found
God again, or that He will have found me.
When Im 35, I hope Ill be who I really
am. Myself.
REBECCA HARRISON, AGE 19, EAST

RANDOLPH
present responses to the prompts, General writing &
35: What will your life be like when youre 35? Read
more at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
YWP NEWS

Also: Meet Vermonts new
Poet Laureate Chard deNiord
SATURDAY, NOV. 7

MONTPELIER
YWPS MONTHLY
DIGITAL MAGAZINE
ARE YOU A SUBSCRIBER?

Left behind
I made a mistake by thinking a body
and soul that have only been growing for
17 years who runs on her own could be
loved by a boy whose body and soul have
only been growing for 17 years who runs
on his own.
If distance really equals rate x time,
my distance ended up crawling across the
country and yours only went in circles. If
d really equals rt, Im much slower than
you, and my heart beats much faster too.
You were my favorite candy and I was

showered with you until I had too much
of you. Or you had too much of me.
Because your supply ran out as my
demand grew [exponentially?] higher.
You started decaying inside of me.
Im still running on my own.
But my throat is inflating like a
messed-up country.
And my stomach has the feeling of
burnt-up candy.
ALIYA SCHNEIDER, AGE 17, RUTLAND
I miss you
THIS WEEK: General & Impressions
I miss you
more than you could ever imagine.
But what hurts the most is that you dont
miss me.
Ive experienced this wanting, needing
pain that we all call missing someone,
and tolerated it just fine.
But what I cant tolerate is not being
missed back.
I cant stand when I text you something
like,
I miss you
and a reply of just a heart emoji comes
back.
I cant take knowing that youre off with
other people,
maybe even better people.
I cant take not being wanted,
not one teensy bit.
Not at all.
If I cant take it, why do I continue to
miss you?
Why is it that I let myself wonder?
Why dont I have enough self-respect to
move on from this torture?
I guess thats part of the deal when you
miss someone.
No matter what goes on, or if the feeling
is mutual,
youll forever miss someone.
Just like how
I miss you.
Each week, Young Writers Project receives submissions of writing and photography from students
across the country. A team of staff, mentors and
students selects the best for publication. This week,
we present local students responses to the prompts,
General writing; and Impressions: Write about a
first impression being wrong.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
NATIONAL LIFE GROUP

Also: Meet Vermonts new
Poet Laureate Chard deNiord

MONTPELIER
Preconceived
RICHARD ROSTEN, AGE 16, GROTON
SATURDAY, NOV. 7
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
She walks down the hall as if she owns

it. No one meets her eye as though they
are scared to look.
I am new to this school and new to
high school.
I have a goal to make myself known on
my terms, not have people hear about me
and have preconceived ideas about what
Im like.
Thinking she might want to let people
know her through experience rather than
rumors, I approach hesitantly and say,
Hi.
Months later, I sit talking to her, thinking back to the day I just said hi with no
preconceptions, glad that my judgment
wasnt clouded by what others said or the
way they acted.
You never know what someone is going through so give them a break. Be
the one that breaks the silence and make a
new friend. Plus, you never know where
you might end up and need a friend.
YWP NEWS & EVENTS
YWPS MONTHLY
DIGITAL MAGAZINE
LAST CALL! TOWN FOREST WRITING CHALLENGE

Vermont has more than 300 town forests and this year marks
the centennial of the legislation that started them all. The Vermont
Town Forest Centennial Celebration, in partnership with Young
Writers Project, invites students, Grades 3-12, to write about them.
PRIZES: 1st: $100; 2nd: $75; 3rd: $50. All winners will also
receive a 2016 season pass to Vermont State Parks and have their
work published. SUBMIT: Any genre: poetry, prose, essay, letter,
and no more than 750 words. DUE: FRIDAY, OCT. 16
More info: youngwritersproject.org/forest15.
for your FREE subscription.
Well deliver it to your email
every month!
First day on the job
It was my first day as a reporter. I was

ready to conquer the whole live broadcasting world!
I planned on leaving early so I would
have time to explore the city I was visiting.
I started out by calling a cab, meaning
I had about an hour to get ready. I opened
my window that looked out over the large
field with a doe and her two fawns. It was
bright and sunny and the most beautiful
day! Perfect for the occasion.
I put on my favorite dress and combed
my long, red, curly hair. After I ate my
breakfast, I walked down the driveway,
stepping in a mud puddle and ruining
my new white sneakers. I ran back to the
house and changed my shoes.
I was waiting at the end of the road
when I saw a huge, dark gray cloud. The
sun disappeared and the sky turned black.
Thunder and lightning came in every
direction. Boom! Crack!
The next thing I knew I was hiding in
a tree filming the terrible storm. I guess
the adrenaline didnt help much. When I
saw the neon yellow cab I jumped out of
the tree like a bird falling out of the sky. I
threw my soaked suitcase in the back seat
without even a thought about putting it in
the trunk.
We maneuvered around fallen trees
and powerlines until the driver slammed
on the brakes and told me to get out. He
must have heard me mumble that I didnt
have any cash. I got out with my weightless wallet. My money mustve fallen
out when I jumped out of the tree. I was
ashamed and I was left in the middle of
nowhere. The driver left me in the dust,
well, mud, since it was raining.
Oh my god! I said, realizing that I
had left my suitcase in the taxi. Now I had
an amazing selection of clothes, and wait
for it ... even more money. I only had my
camera which was practically glued to
my hand. I never left it anywhere, it was
always with me.
I walked down the mountain road.
Why did I even want to live on the top of
the mountain? Oh yeah. I came from the
sticks and couldnt stand being in the city.
So much for that decision. I kept walking
through the rain, seeing rabbits and mice
run into holes, avoiding the small streams
starting to run down the road. By the time
I reached the bottom of the mountain my
stomach was growling. No money, no
food. I crossed the intersection and started
... the longest walk I have ever taken...
(Read the complete story at youngwritersproject.org/node/670.)

publication. This week, we present responses to the
prompt, General writing. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.
-- SYDNEY BENNET, AGE 14, BENSON
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
YWP NEWS & EVENTS
YWPS MONTHLY
DIGITAL MAGAZINE

JOIN YWPS
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
ONLINE COMMUNITY!
AN INVITATION TO
ALL STUDENTS, GRADES 3-12
Sign up today for an account on
YWPs dynamic new website to share
your writing, photos, videos, audio
and more!
Its a safe, respectful place where
writers and artists take creative risks,
find the support of peers and mentors
and have fun doing it.
Dylan Sayamougankhua, Burlington
TOWN FOREST WRITING CHALLENGE

Vermont has more than 300 town forests and this year marks
the centennial of the legislation that started them all. The Vermont
Town Forest Centennial Celebration, in partnership with Young
Writers Project, invites students, Grades 3-12, to write about them.
PRIZES: 1st: $100; 2nd: $75; 3rd: $50. All winners will also
receive a 2016 season pass to Vermont State Parks and have their
work published. HOW TO SUBMIT: Any genre: poetry, prose, essay,
letter, and no more than 750 words. DUE: OCT. 25
More info: youngwritersproject.org/forest15.
DONT MISS IT!

NEXT SLAM: FRIDAY, NOV. 6!
What happened?
What happened to the little girl who read
books upon books?
Or put together puzzles upon puzzles?
Who ate her scrambled eggs with
ketchup?
I guess time is what happened.
That girl is reading tweets instead of
books,
putting together pieces of her broken
childhood instead of puzzles,
and counting calories instead of eating.
Each year she blew out the candles
she grew taller,
she became wiser.
At times, she was too wise,
but she knew the boundaries.
They say being a teenager isnt that hard,
but do they really know?
You know what isnt hard?
Making foam rockets,
singing in the shower,
and having playdates.
But that girl
shes a big girl now.
A teenager now.
She doesnt have time to do these things.
Shes too busy staying up to the morning
hours doing homework,
or texting her best friends because it
seems that theyre the only ones who
understand.
You wouldnt believe how bad she just
wants to go back to those days.
What happened to being truly happy?
I guess time is what happened.

students selects the best writing and images for publication. This week, we present writing in response
to the prompt for General writing. Read more at
youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
VERMONT BUSINESS
ROUNDTABLE
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

TOWN FOREST
WRITING CHALLENGE
Vermont has more than 300 town

forests and this year marks the centennial of the legislation that started
them all. The Vermont Town Forest
Centennial Celebration, in partnership
with Young Writers Project, invites
young writers to explore these forests
and write!
PRIZES: 1st: $100; 2nd: $75; 3rd:
$50. All winners will also receive a
2016 season pass to Vermont State
Parks and have their work published.
HOW TO SUBMIT: Any genre: poetry, prose, essay, letter, and no more
than 750 words. DUE: OCT. 25
For more information, go to
youngwritersproject.org/forest15.
YWPS MONTHLY
DIGITAL MAGAZINE
JOIN YWPS
ONLINE COMMUNITY!
AN INVITATION TO
ALL STUDENTS, GRADES 3-12
Sign up today for an account on
YWPs dynamic new website to share
your writing, photos, videos, audio
and more!
Its a safe, respectful place where
writers and artists take creative risks,
find the support of peers and mentors
TEEN PHOTOGRAPHERS
Join youngwritersproject.org today and submit your
photos for publication on the site, in this newspaper and
YWPs digital magazine, The Voice!
More info: sreid@youngwritersproject.org
Well deliver it
to your email every month!
First impression
Barely five years old,
its my first day at my school.
I feel that I am shy.
I want them to think Im cool.
Theres one little girl;
Im unsure of her name.
But I can tell already,
we like nothing thats the same.
My brown hair falls in waves;
her blonde locks are short and straight.
The differences between us
are distinct in every trait.
We laugh at different things,
eat at different tables.
As we grow older,
we differ in our labels.
But we become the best of friends
somewhere along the way,
and even though were different
we grow closer every day.
THIS WEEK: Impressions

and New Hampshire. This week, we present responses to the prompt, Impressions: Has your first impression ever been totally wrong, or has someone had the
wrong impression of you? Tell the story. Read more
at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
JANES TRUST
The people are

talking
PHOTO OF THE WEEK
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

TOWN FOREST
WRITING CHALLENGE

forests and this year marks the centennial of the legislation that started
them all. The Vermont Town Forest
Centennial Celebration, in partnership
with Young Writers Project, invites
young writers to explore these forests
and write!
PRIZES: 1st: $100; 2nd: $75; 3rd:
HOW TO SUBMIT: Any genre: poetry, prose, essay, letter, and no more
than 750 words. DUE: OCT. 25
For more information, go to
youngwritersproject.org/forest15.
The people are talking;

they say I dont belong.
Their cracked lips twist and turn.
The peoples eyes dance in amusement,
as if to say,
how does she have the nerve, this new
girl?
Their manicures cup each others ears
while they exchange opinions.
But their dimples say it all.
They think their voices are hushed,
silenced to everyone elses hearing.
But I can hear them.
Or maybe they want to be heard.
Go to youngwritersproject.org for your

FREE subscription!
The people are talking;

they say I dont belong.
Not here at least.
And now I know that, too.
Except its too late now.

& THE VOICE
CHECK OUT YWPS
TEEN PHOTOGRAPHERS
NEW WEB SITE
Join youngwritersproject.org today and submit your photos for
publication on the site, in this newspaper and YWPs digital
magazine, The Voice!
More info: sreid@youngwritersproject.org
A safe, respectful community

of writers and artists
who take creative risks
The new puppy

My brother Aiden wanted desperately to get a dog. He spent days, weeks,
months, even years convincing my
parents that he was responsible, he would
help pay for it, he would feed it, care for
it, walk it, and do whatever he had to do
to keep it. Eventually he wore my parents
down. At the kitchen table one night, my
parents brought it up with the rest of us.
So, Mom started. We all know that
Aiden has wanted a dog for some time
now and your father and I are seriously
considering it, but we wanted to know
your opinion.
At first we were quiet; most of us
didnt really want a dog and if did, we
had very specific criteria.
Grant, my oldest brother began. Well,
I dont really have a problem with that;
I just dont want hair on everything in
the house. I was angry for a minute; I
thought Grant was on my side of this argument. We dont want a dog. Shane, my
younger brother spoke up next.
I am afraid of dogs. I dont want one.
Thank you Shane, I said silently to myself. I even applauded him silently in my
head. Way to hold to your opinion.
But if it isnt a big dog and it doesnt
bark a lot and isnt totally hyper, I might
be okay with it.
Forget my mental applause, Shane.
This is a big decision, and you already
told me you dont want a dog. You know
Aiden is the most responsible of the four
of us, but you will still have to feed it,
and walk it, and do all the other puppy
maintenance stuff too. Even if Aiden says
we wont have to. What if he goes to a
friends house or basketball practice or
something, then we will have to take care
of it and Mom and Dad will make us do it
since Aiden isnt there.
Everyone was looking at me now.
What about you, Maria? What do you
think? Dad asked.
I already told you I dont want a dog,
so why do you guys keep asking?
It came out as more of a bark or a
whine than a fluid sentence.
You havent told us why, though,
honey.
I just dont want one.
I said it as if I had just given a completely legitimate reason to dislike dogs.
But why, specifically?
I thought about it for a second while
I stared them both down with one of my
very best defiant glares.
Well, do you remember how Uncle
Tom and Aunt Carey brought their dog
with them and then locked him in my
room? I paused so they could think
about it. Then it tore up the corner of my
carpet when he was trying to get out.
THIS WEEK: General

publication. This week, we present a response to the
prompt for General writing. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.
ABOUT THE PROJECT
THANKS FROM YWP

VT 05401.
THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

TOWN FOREST
WRITING CHALLENGE

forests and this year marks the centennial of the legislation that started them
all. The Vermont Town Forest Centennial Celebration, in partnership with
Young Writers Project, invites young
writers to explore these forests and
write!
PRIZES: 1st: $100; 2nd: $75; 3rd:
HOW TO SUBMIT: Any genre: poetry,
prose, essay, letter, and no more than
750 words. DUE: OCT. 25
For more information, go to youngwritersproject.org/forest15.
THE CALVIN
WRITING CHALLENGE
Photo by Spencer Glanville
They nodded.
I dont want anything like that to happen again. So I do not want a dog.
To my surprise they didnt just blow
off my response. They were quiet for a
moment and I could tell they were thinking about what I had said. For that alone
I didnt say anything and for a moment I
actually considered getting a dog.
If we ever were to get a dog, I dont
want it barking up a storm and shedding
and I dont want it to come into my room
and I dont want to have to take care of
it and I would rather it wasnt a big dog.
Only if we got one, though. I was actually starting to feel a little better about the
whole dog owner situation.
As the conversation went on and on,
the list of criteria got longer and I was
feeling a little warmer to the idea. Aiden
spent the next few weeks searching for
a dog that fit the criteria and was of
relatively low cost and preferably cute.
I watched over his shoulder a few times,
curious to see how he was coming along.

A few weeks later he showed a dog to
my parents, and my mom instantly fell
in love with it. She was an adorable little
cockapoo puppy named Myra; she had
big black and white splotches like a cow
on longish hair and white and brown
eyebrows.
A little while after she came, we gave
her a haircut and I think she shrunk an
inch. When she was crazy she would run
around the kitchen at the speed of light,
her feet rarely finding a purchase on the
smooth linoleum ... Now that we have
had her for a while, she has grown on me
and she is the cutest puppy I have ever
seen. I just love the little thing; and to
think, I didnt even want a dog. Funny
how that worked out; I wasnt even
considering liking a dog and now I cant
remember what it was like without her.
MARY BABB, AGE 14, RUTLAND
Write to win $1,500 and a trip to

NYC to be honored at a reception!
Young Writers Project partners with the
Calvin Coolidge Foundation to promote
and help curate entries for the 2015
Calvin Prize for Vermont Youth.
This years theme: DO YOU THINK
HIGHER EDUCATION IS WORTH THE COST
TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY?
Submit writing (fewer than 1,000

words) in any genre and address the
question above. DUE: SEPT. 25
More details: coolidgefoundation.org.
CHECK OUT YWPS

NEW WEB SITE
General writing from the summer in

any genre. Due Sept. 4
WRITING CHALLENGES
September - November 2015
Mentor. Who has influenced and

encouraged you most in your life -- in
or out of school? Why has this person been
so powerful for you? Alternate: PhotoBookshop: Write a story based on the
photo, Recursive Bookshop, by Alexandre Duret-Lutz. Due Sept. 11
Young Writers Project, an independent nonprofit that engages students to write, helps them improve and connects them
with authentic audiences, encourages all writers, Grades 3-12,
to create an account on our new web site, youngwritersproject.org, and write to these and other challenges on the site.
Best work is published in this newspaper, in YWPs digital
magazine, The Voice, and other publications and sites.
warnings). OR Sound-Cheering: Click on

the audio link for this challenge on youngwritersproject.org and write the story you
hear, or use the clip and add more sounds
to create a sound story. Due Oct. 2
Photo-Bookshop.Recursive Bookshop, by
Alexandre Duret-Lutz. (Creative Commons
license. Must be linked and attributed.)
Self-portrait. Tell a story that you

think shows your essence, your most
important trait(s). You can write or use
visual media or sound. Or a combination.
Alternate: Sound-Engine: Click on the
audio link for this challenge on youngwritersproject.org and write the story you hear,
or use the clip and add more sounds to
create a soundscape (or sound story.) Due
Sept. 18
Impressions. Has your first impression ever been totally wrong about
someone or something? Tell a story about
a first impression that was wrong OR how
someone had the wrong impression of you.
How did it turn out? Alternate: PhotoNuclear: Write about the photo below,
Morning Glory, by David Blackwell.
Due Sept. 25
One-sided. Your character can hear

only one side of a phone conversation, but it sounds important; tell the story
using one-sided dialogue. (If you have
trouble with this, listen in on a conversation and create the other side. Also, go
to youngwritersproject.org and try a Lab
about creating dialogue). Alternate: 35:
Who will you be when you are 35? Will
you be living in your home state? What
will you be doing? (This is part of a project with medium.com.) Due Oct. 9
Forest15. Explore a town forest in

Vermont -- and write to win cash
prizes. All details at youngwritersproject.
org. Alternate: Spooky: Write a story that
makes your readers scream! Can be real or
imagined. Due Oct. 16
Winter Tales. What is your experience of winter? Tell a story in short

descriptive or narrative poetry or prose.
No clichs, please. The best will be
selected for presentation by the Vermont
Stage Company at its annual Winter Tales
production at FlynnSpace in Burlington
in December. Alternate: General writing.
Due Oct. 23
Photo-Nuclear. Morning Glory, by David

Blackwell, Morning Glory. (Creative Commons license. Must be linked and attributed.)
11
Sports. What sport would you create if given the chance? You could
explain the rules, the history, describe an
amazing match, tell why it was invented
... anything! Or, tell the story of an epic
sports moment you were part of. Alternate:
Embarrassed: Whats the most embarrassing (true) story that youre willing to
share? (If it involves someone else, change
the names to protect the innocent!) Due
Nov. 13
12
Sound-Footsteps. Click the audio

link for this challenge on youngwritersproject.org and write the story you
hear or use it to create a soundscape. Alternate: Monologue: Write a monologue
of a person who is troubled or conflicted
about something. Reach a resolution. Due
Nov. 20
13
Photo-Women: Using the photo

below,Three Different Reactions
Facing a Photographer, tell a story. Alternate: Foil: Create a foil or an opposite for
a character. Throw both characters into a
story. How do their differences conflict or
complement each other? Due Nov. 27
Photo-Ghost. My Ghost, Matt Wilson.

(Creative Commons license. Must be linked
and attributed.)
802. Whats it like to be a teenager

in Vermont? In words, images and/
or sound, describe your life in this rural
state. Share your best and worst stories.
Do you want to stay or flee? (This is part
of a project with medium.com.) Alternates:
Loyalty: Tell a story where loyalty plays a
key role, either in a heroic way or by getting your character in trouble (going along
with a friends bad idea or not heeding
10
Things. You have to move out of

your house suddenly and are allowed only one small box for your things.
What would you put in the box and what
do these things say about you? Alternates:
Fame: Write about a character who is suddenly famous. The paparazzi are outside
the window and the characters face keeps
flashing on the TV screen, but s/he has no
idea why! What happens? And why the
sudden fame? General: Send us your best
work of any category or type. Due Nov. 6
Six. Write a complete poem/story in

six words. (Write as many as youd
like.) Alternates: Photo-Ghost: Write a
story in response to the photo above, My
Ghost, by Matt Wilson; OR Art: Call
for visual artists! Send us your very best
photos and scanned art. Due Oct. 30
Photo-Women.Three Different Reactions

Facing a Photographer, by Pedro Ribeiro
Simoes. (Creative Commons license. Must
be linked and attributed.)
YWP NEWS & EVENTS

THE CALVIN
WRITING CHALLENGE
Write an essay and win $1,500

and a trip to NYC to be honored
at a reception! YWP partners with
the Calvin Coolidge Foundation to
promote and help curate entries for
the 2015 Calvin Prize for Vermont
Youth. This years theme:
DO YOU THINK HIGHER

EDUCATION IS WORTH THE COST
TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY?
You may submit writing in any

genre essay, fiction, prose or
poetry. Your writing must address
the question in bold above and
must be fewer than 1,000 words.
Use the letters of Calvin Coolidge
and other Coolidge-related sources
to compare and contrast your situation today to that of Coolidge in
his time.
DEADLINE: SEPT. 25
More details: coolidgefoundation.org.
YWP HAS A NEW SITE!
A safe, respectful community

of writers and artists who take
creative risks and have fun doing it.
Check out
YWPs monthly digital
magazine of
best writing,
photos, audio
and more...
Get your free subscription:

thevoice.youngwritersproject.org

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Forgotten

Dainty in the tall weeds,

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Hangin with the fam #Dab

Push to the limit

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RUNNING LOG COULD BE USED

You made everything a construction

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There are images of me with my family,

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Caleb Dudley, Essex Junction

duce you to your future husband,

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Ice and raindrops

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Its the color he sees in the ice he is eating.

Photos by Madi Cohen, Bolton

When the world

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