2016 Write Stuff Contest Winners

We have had our Write Stuff contest for a number of years now and it just keeps getting better. This year we had over 130 entries! This year's prompt, "'You've just won!' the radio host announced" allowed for some very interesting interpretations. While we love reading the contest entries, choosing our favorite is so difficult. 

Here are the first and second place winners for each age group:

AGES 8-10
1st Place--Yahfi G. (Age 10)--Deja Vu
2nd Place--Summer L. (Age 10)--Radio Day

AGES 11-14
1st Place--Gabe D. (Age 13)--The Waiting
2nd Place--Owen F. (Age 11)--The Luck of the Draw

AGES 15-18
1st Place--Mary M. (Age 15)--Radio
2nd Place--Katherine H. (age 16)--A Voice in the Wind

The First Place entries for Ages 8-10 and Ages 11-14 are below. Visit our TEEN BLOG to see the winning entry for the Ages 15-18.

Thank you to all who entered and we can't wait to see what you come up with next year!

First Place- Ages 8-10 
Deja Vu
“Another day stuck behind this suffocating desk” I grumbled. “Okay class” Mr. Trigg said, as I slid into my seat. “Today we’re going to learn about the Presidents of the United States!” Why?” I complained. “You’ll find it quite interesting, Ms. Andersen” he replied. Before we begin, lets listen to some tunes on the radio to brighten up our spirits, Mr. Trigg said, cranking up the volume. William Trigg, “You’ve just won” the radio announcer said. “Yes!” “I won - Woo hoo!” he cheered. I QUIT! I don’t have to teach anymore! I’m rich!!” Mr. Trigg grabbed his coat and ran out the classroom. 

We all just sat there in disbelief. “Did Mr. Trigg just leave us?” “Who’s going to teach our class now?” It seems like all the students were talking at once.It was complete chaos. I could barely hear the radio announcer as he repeated the words, “That’s right, Mr. Trigg, you’ve just won a lifetime supply of celery sticks!” “Oh no!” I thought. Mr. Trigg thinks that he won the lottery and just quit his job. I have to tell him that he only won celery sticks. I grabbed my backpack and rushed out the door. 

While walking home from school, all I could think about was Mr. Trigg. What will happen to him? Will he become homeless? “I’ve got to help him somehow”, I pondered. When I made it home my parents asked me how my day went. I told them that school was canceled because my teacher quit. 

Later that day, I called my friend Maria over to help me think of a plan to help Mr. Trigg get his job back. We couldn’t think of anything that would convince our Principal to give Mr. Trigg his job back, after the way he abandoned his students in the classroom yesterday. We decided to get something to eat to refresh ourselves. “Let’s go to Mcdonalds” I said. Maria agreed and we headed All we could think about was Mr. Trigg as we made the 2 block walk to Mcdonald’s. As we were deciding what to order, we heard a familiar voice behind the counter ask, “May I help you?” I couldn’t believe who It was – Mr. Trigg! I asked him what he was doing working at Mcdonalds? He said, “I thought I won the lottery, but it turns out that I only won a lifetime supply of celery sticks.” Anyway, what can I get for you kids?” he continued. We ordered two medium fries and headed back home. 

“Cassandra, wake up, time for school!” my mother yelled from the bottom of the stairs. It was all a dream! I went to school and saw Mr. Trigg eagerly waiting for us at the classroom door. “Good morning students, today we’re going to learn about the Presidents of the United States!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

First Place- Ages 11-14
The Waiting

Everybody gets somewhere, everybody leaves someday, everybody except me. I’ve been waiting forever. I see people come, I see people leave, but nobody sees me. I can wave my hands in their faces, but they don’t even react. I can slap, scream, and cry until my hands are sore, my voice is hoarse, and my eyes are all dried out, but they don’t even blink. I want to be like them, I want to be able to leave. To escape this grey room to the paradise I know must await beyond the door I can never open, never walk through. “You’ve just won!” The radio host announced again. Exactly the way she has a thousand times before. Every time I know she isn’t talking to me, but every time I still walk to the far door and try to open it. It hasn’t opened yet, and I doubt it ever will, not for me at least. An old woman leaves the room. I am the only one now. I like it this way, as there is nothing to remind me of what I am, of the truth. I stare at the closing door, the shred of light behind it my only glimpse of the outside world. My tomorrow, always my tomorrow, I wish it could become my today. Another person walks into the room, she wears a deep blue shirt, jeans, and a plaid jacket. Her bright red hair done in a messy ponytail. She carries a thin cane which swings gently to and fro, never touching the ground. She walks slowly, as if unsure of her own feet. Finally she sits beside me. Coincidence, I tell myself, it always is.

“Hello,” her voice is polite but not overly interested. I look around, sure that I missed something, sure that there is somebody else in the room. Finally, I whisper,

“You can see me?”

She chuckles, “No, I can hear your breathing.”

My heart speeds up, and I can feel the blood pumping through my veins.

“Please,” I say, “please, you have to get me out of here!”

She doesn’t even turn, “Why would I do that, we’re in a waiting room.”

“No, no, you’re in a waiting room. I’m . . . .  I’m trapped. I can’t get anywhere, you need to help me get out.”

I can tell she doesn’t believe me, so I try one last thing.

“Please, just try the door, please.”

“Fine!” she says, getting up. She feels around for a while, looking for a door. I want to offer to help, but I know she won’t accept. Finally she tries the door. She tries it, and it doesn’t open. She tries again, yanking the handle down, and then up. Still nothing. She begins panicking, yanking at the door; I look away.

Suddenly, the door on the other side of the room opens, a man in a suit walks through.

“Help me,” she says to him.

He doesn’t react.

“Help Me!” she screams.

He doesn’t even blink.

2015 Write Stuff winners

We have had our Write Stuff contest for a number of years now and it just keeps growing. This year we had over 150 entries! This year's prompt, "I peeled back the paper and there you were" allowed for some very diverse interpretations. While we love reading the contest entries, choosing our favorite is so difficult. 

Here are the first and second place winners for each age group:

AGES 8-10
1st Place--Natalie F. (age 8) "Pigs in Space"
2nd Place--Riya A. (age 10) "Fairy Tale"

AGES 11-14
1st Place--Shruthika K. (age 12) "A Special Can of Pringles"
2nd Place--Charles D. (age 13) "The Concert"

AGES 15-18
1st Place--Isabelle Z. (age 15) "Not Done Yet"
2nd Place--Abigail A. (age 17) "In the Depths of May"

The First Place entries for Ages 8-10 and Ages 11-14 are below. Visit our TEEN BLOG to see the winning entry for the Ages 15-18.

Thank you to all who entered and we can't wait to see what you come up with next year!

AGES 8-10
"Pigs in Space" by Natalie F.


“I can’t believe our owner is going to space!” squealed Gracie.  

“It would be cool to study Mars,” said Gerty.  

“What do they eat?” asked Fred. 

“Kids, we are not going to space,” said Mr. Pig. 

“We are just plain, old guinea pigs,” said Mrs. Pig.  

“But, said Gerty. 

“NO BUTS,” yelled Mr. Pig, “WE ARE NOT ASTRONAUTS! NOW GO TO BED!”                                                         

The pigs scrambled to their favorite pile of wood shavings and fell asleep very fast. But when                                                  
the cage was very quiet they leaped out and tumbled into their owner’s lunchbox.  

“It smells like a tuna sandwich,” said Gracie holding her nose.

Gerty and Gracie went to sleep by an apple, but Fred had other plans. He bounced onto a bag of 

potato chips. He tried to open the bag 17 times! Finally he belly flopped on the bag and POP! Potato 

chips flew everywhere.  It was so loud his sisters woke up. AAAHH! Said gerty and graice.

 “WHAT ON EARTH?” asked the owner. 

“Mr. Burny,” said the owner’s partner, Mr. Kean, “we aren’t on earth anymore.” 

“FRED!” said Gerty.  

“Mmmmhhh!” said Fred 

“He’s in the bag!” said Gracie. 

RRRRIIIPP! Went the bag. 

“How did you find me with your tiny paws?” asked Fred.
                                                         

“Well, I peeled back the paper and there you were,” said Gerty.                                

ZIIIIPP! 

“The lunchbox is opening!” yelled Gracie. 

“AHHHHH!” said Fred and Gerty. 

The pigs raced to the apple and hid.  The owner picked up the big potato chip mess. Then he spotted 

the apple. He picked up it up and looked on all sides to check for bruises. Then he spotted the pigs. 

“OH DEAR!” said the owner.


“WHAT ARE YOU OH DEARING ABOUT? GET TO WORK!” yelled Mr.  Bark.  

Mr. Bark is the owner’s boss. The owner hid the pigs in his lunchbox again. 

“I…I will sir!” Then he whispered, “I’ll take you to the moon without my boss knowing,” said the 

owner. 

“Ya, hear that?” said Gerty “we are going to the moon!”


AGES 11-14
"A Special Can of Pringles" by Shruthika K. 

Dear Turtle,

I was a kid who wanted a snack, not an adventure, so when I opened my can of 

Pringles, I was surprised. I peeled back the paper and there you were, sitting there, 

finishing off the last crumbs. I asked why you were so small, thinking I was hallucinating. 

You told me your name was Turtle, and you were the result of an experiment. You had 

snuck into the jar of Pringles because you liked them. Less scared, I introduced myself 

as Cassie and asked exactly what experiment would reduce someone to mere inches. 

You shuddered at the thought and explained that there was a company called 

BioGenetic Visionaries, who had this crazy idea that people need to be the same height 

to ensure equality. They created a serum to change everyone to 5 feet, 10 inches, but 

ended up reducing all the people they tested on to 5 centimeters, 10 millimeters. I 

recognized the company, since both my parents work there, and you simply grinned at 

me, saying tomorrow was “take your child to work day”. 

I doubted my parents knew about the experimentation, since they would’ve 

already quit their job if they had. This was confirmed when they turned down a hallway, 

and you led me down another after I told them I needed to use the restroom. I walked 

into a room, awestruck by the test tubes filled with a translucent orange liquid, the 

miniature people trapped inside birdcages, the scientists milling around, not caring 

about the protests. There was one person, probably the supervisor, sitting there, 

watching all of it.

He saw me and told me to leave. I refused and questioned him about the 

experiment. He wouldn’t explain until you jumped out of my pocket, saying that you 

escaped and told me about it. The supervisor then tried to convince me they were the 

good guys, claiming that they were visionaries of the future; bringing equality to all 

humans by making everyone the same size so no one would be better or stronger than 

others. This angered me, and I said that people who weren’t strong were good at other 

things, and the world was already balanced. 

You whispered a plan to me, and I agreed. You jumped on the supervisor, 

distracting him, as I grabbed all the test tubes, ran to the nearest toilet, and flushed it all 

down the drain. I came back in, just in time to watch the supervisor crush you in his 

hand. Screaming, I ran to the supercomputer with all the information, and smashed it 

with a nearby birdcage, yelling at all the scientists about how they weren’t visionaries, 

they were futuristic Hitlers. All the work was destroyed. I ran out of the room and into my 

parents’ workplace, explaining.

A month later, BioGenetics Visionaries was sued and demolished. I sat down 

writing this obituary for you, Turtle, and your sacrifice. And as I went to get a snack, I 

put aside some Pringles in your memory.

2014 Write Stuff Contest Winners

St. Louis County Library's Art@ Your Library Write Stuff 2014 contest is over. The entries have been read and the top two in each age group have been chosen. 

This is always a fun, yet challenging time for us. We have to read the entries, choose our initial favorites and then go through the process again until we have our winners. We received more than 120 great entries this year so the competition was fierce. Judging was based on originality, story flow/continuity and mechanical elements. Judges decisions are final.

Thank you to all of our contestants and congratulations to our winners!

1st PLACE: AGE GROUP 8-10

RADICAL

by Ethan E.

Age 10

Prologue:

“Hurry it up,” Ronald Elson said in a gruff voice. His evil companion, Terry Haiser was breaking a lock on an amazing invention. When it finally opened, they heard, “Beep! Beep!...” Ronald was furious. “I thought you disarmed it, you fool!” “S-s-sorry,” Terry stuttered. Before they knew it, they were being searched. Ronald knew he had to do something. He quickly nabbed the futuristic looking ray gun and chucked it out of sight. They were cuffed and booked. They called their boss, explaining, “The cops didn’t find the ray gun. We’re going to jail, but if anyone asks, tell them we’re fine.”

The Story:

Mr. Thomason, a lab janitor, was cleaning the crime scene when he noticed something behind a crate. He picked it up and gasped. It looked like a toy gun, so he took it home and gave it to his son John.

John was a pretty normal kid; smart, had an Xbox, etc. Now he held one of the world’s greatest treasures. It had an HDMI cord, so he plugged it into his Xbox. He had no clue what it was or what it did. When his Xbox turned on, he picked up the gun and pointed it at his sister’s doll. He pressed the trigger, and a thin line of light shot from the gun to the doll. In an instant the doll disappeared. He looked at the TV screen in disbelief. The doll was alive in his game. He thought of an idea, a big idea, a wicked idea. He pointed the gun at himself and fired. Suddenly he was flying through new dimensions and finally landed with a thud. He looked around and saw he was within his favorite game: “Super Mario Galaxy 2”.

He jumped on a level starter button and began playing. He walked around smashing enemies and getting coins. Then a Goomba creature hit him and he fell back. He got revenge by leading the Goomba off the edge. His plan backfired. Another Goomba hit him, and he fell, barely grasping the edge of the platform. He hung on until he couldn’t any longer. He fell, fearing he would die, but thankfully, he slowed down and stopped back at the start.

John wanted to go home. He turned to find a way back when he saw a screen showing his sister holding the ray gun. John realized his sister was in danger. She pointed the gun at herself, and it looked like bad news, but she didn’t pull the trigger. She pushed another button John hadn’t noticed. Immediately, John was in the air flying hard and fast. As suddenly as it started, it stopped. John was standing in the living room. He rejoiced and hugged his sister. Then he threw the gun into his neighbors’ yard. John never told his story, but his neighbor would experience it…

Epilogue:

Ronald Elson and his companion never were fine. They spent the rest of their lives in cell #13.

1st PLACE: AGE GROUP 11-14

THE DAY OF LOSSES

By Gabriel D.

Age 11

“Take the basket and go!” Mom yelled.

“Mom, please come with us,” I yelled.

“Your dad will get you to the train now go!”

“Mom!”

My dad pulled me away, kicking and screaming. My sister followed like a dazed puppy; she didn’t know we weren’t coming back to the house we loved. I knew we were running from the soldiers, with their tanks and trucks, their helmets and guns. Dad rushed us along. We passed all of the shops and cafes I had known my entire life, the ones I loved. I knew that we were never going to come back to this town, or to our parents. When we arrived at the station I hugged Dad and cried.

Dad smiled sadly then said, “Son, take care of your sister, but if anybody asks, tell them we are fine in the carriage next door.”

I sobbed. My sister looked confused and sad, like she knew something was wrong but had no idea what. She was clutching the basket Mom had given us. Suddenly the train whistle rang out and my sobbing stopped. Dad rushed us to our seats and waited for us to get settled in. He then said goodbye and left the train.

“Why is Dada running away?” My sister asked.

“It’s okay, he's going to the train car next to this one,” I lied.

“I don’t wanna go away from Mama, when do we come back?” She asked, holding her basket.

I didn’t answer; I just sat there knowing we would never go back to Mom and Dad. I slumped in my seat, preparing to sleep. My sister was sleeping, her chest rising and falling. I watched her sleep, slowly my breath synchronized with hers and sleep enveloped me. I woke quickly as the train screeched to a stop. My sister still slept, her head in her basket. She woke when the conductor opened the curtain.

“Hey,” said the conductor “where are your parents?”

“They are fine, just in the next car,” I lied.

We hopped off the train and into the bustling city. There were more people than I had seen in my whole life. I picked a direction and we set off. We walked for a while before sitting on a bench. We had only a roll and some cheese, so we ate very little. I gave most of it to my sister. A woman and her husband walked up to us, I was nearly asleep.

“Where are your parents?” The woman asked.

“They are fine,” I said sleepily “they are just in the train car next door.”

I jolted awake, realizing my mistake too late, I had given away that our parents weren’t here.

“You’re orphans, aren’t you?” she asked.

I nodded, not bothering to correct her. She smiled and looked at her husband. He shook his head, but she gave him a look. I didn’t understand what was happening but eventually the woman said,

“Come with us, I know just the place for you.”

1st PLACE: AGE GROUP 15-18

CHILDHOOD ADVENTURES

By Jillian K.

Age 17

                Grabbing my brother by the shoulders, I pulled him closer to me. As soldier’s mighty steeds thundered past, neither of us dared breathe. The sound gradually died away; relieved, our breath returned.

                “Where are we?” Rueben asked.

 “The hole of a badger I believe,” I leaned back against the dirt wall.

 “What did we recover, Lydia?” his impish smile made me grin.

                I pulled the item, wrapped in coarse sackcloth, out of my satchel. Rueben’s eyes grew wide with anticipation. Pulling back the cloth, we gasped.  In my hands lay a book, almost too thick to hold. Strange vines with leaves and fruits scrolled across the dark leather. Had we been foolhardy enough to open the book, a great padlock on the side prevented us.

 “The Great Tablet of Unknown Magic,” he breathed, “the most powerful spell book in the land.”

 I nodded, “All the more reason for us to return it to the Iron Trolls, as quickly as possible.”

                “How did they lose it?”

                “Read these words, written in their notice to us.”

 Rueben took the note and read it aloud.

“Lydia and Rueben,

Our most valuable possession has been stolen. Without it, all is lost. Retrieve it and bring it back to the Iron Mountains and you will be well rewarded. But beware! Our Enemy has spies everywhere in all shapes and forms; do not tell anyone of our plight! If any ask you, tell them we are fine. Do not fail us!

Signed,

King of the Iron Trolls.”

                “The Evil Sorceress of the North,” I muttered. “She must be the Enemy they speak of.”

                Rueben looked up at me suddenly fearful. “Their Enemy? Surely they were not foolish enough to make enemies with—with… her?”

 I wagged my head from side to side, “We shall have to tread carefully.”

                “Before we tread, can we eat?” Rueben quipped nervously.

 He dug into his satchel and pulled out some cheese, bread, and meat. I took a drink out of our wineskin and then handed it to him.

                “It will be safest to travel at night.” “We will rest here and then climb the mountain at nightfall.” I lay down while he finished eating.

                Rueben then snuggled up next to me. I moved a blonde strand of hair away from his face. His large eyes shifted beneath their lids for a moment, and we soon drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

                The cold wind was determined to drive us off the mountain face as Rueben and I climbed; it bit at our ears and noses and whistled through our clothes. Three days of hard climbing in frigid cold numbed our fingers and nearly broke our backs. The powerful wind made visibility impossible. We were close to the Iron Trolls…or so we thought.

                I called to Reuben below, “There is a ledge just above us. We shall rest there. But beware of the Whispering Willows; they grow wild on the mountain and will burn your flesh if you touch them.”

                Rueben nodded, adjusting the clasp on his cloak. We struggled onto the ledge and laid there panting. After a few moments, we examined our surroundings; still being wary of the Willows.

                “The rock is smooth here,” Rueben looked at me nervously running his hands along the rock wall.

                I bit my lip and said, “That should not be.”

                Rueben and I advanced, swords drawn. I looked at him; his face was gaunt with fear but beaming with resilience.

                “Brother,” I reached out to him, “we have fought well together. If this be our last fight…”

                “Then it shall be our greatest fight!” he said firmly.

 A sudden brightness blinded us and we stumbled back. A door had opened straight out of the smooth place.

 “THE SORCERESS!” Rueben bellowed.

                “YOU WILL NOT TAKE US ALIVE!” I screamed.

                We surged forward with a great war whoop.

                “Benny Robert and Lindsey Grace, what are you doing?” a voice chided harshly.

 I blinked stunned, “M-mom…you’re home from work?”

                Mom set her purse down on the table and shut the door. She eyed us oddly, “What are you two doing with umbrellas?”

 “U-umbrellas?” Benny and I exchanged looks. “Do you inquire after our weaponry?”

                Mom pushed past us and went into the kitchen, “What is this? Lunch meat, cheese, white bread, and Welch’s grape juice?”

                “Our victuals?” I suggested.

                Her head popped back with an eyebrow raised, “Under the table?”

                “Uh…,” Benny said, “that’s our badger cave. Not a table.”

                “And look at this room!” she exclaimed crossing in front of us going into the living room, “my couch cushions are stacked into a tower and why are there t-shirts over these lamps?”

                I gestured to the tower, “That’s the great Iron Mountain range.”

 “And those are Whispering Willows. Beware!” Benny called as Mom was taking the green shirts off the lamps, “They are poisonous.”

                Mom reached down and grabbed my satchel and dug around in it, “Why is there a bedazzled cereal box in your back pack?”

                I snatched that from her, “That is The Great Tablet of Unknown Magic. It contains all the secret knowledge of spells from the past eight millennia.”

                Mom smiled, shook her head, and walked out of the room. The room grew quiet and I shifted oddly from foot to foot. Benny tugged at the bath towel tied around his neck.

                I got an idea, “Rueben…that was the Sorceress! She is trying to bewitch us!”

                “Indeed!” He hefted his sword, “let us seize the witch and impale her head on a pike!”

                With a nod, we crept back behind a few boulders. The Sorceress reappeared and looked around for us, murder was in her eyes. Her long finger nails dripped with blood, black strands of hair hung like spider’s legs.

                “You are too quiet…”she called in a sing song voice. “I do not like it when you are so quiet.”

 “Now!!”

                We leapt upon the witch and destroyed her in the only way possible. Death by tickling!

Write Stuff Contest Winners

The St. Louis County Library's Write Stuff Contest was a huge success! This is the fourth year of the contest and it just keeps getting bigger and better. Entries were received in three age groups: ages 8-10, ages 11-14 and ages 15-18. The 2013 Write Stuff entries all began with "It started out like any other family road trip..." Our judges went on 156 road trips with our young writers and boy was it tough to pick just three winners in each category!

Congratulations to our winners!

Ages 8-10:

1st place-Patrick M., age 9 "March 5, 1848"

2nd place-Hanna M., age 8 "The Amazing Day"

3rd place-Shannon E., age 9 "The Great Easter Egg Hunt

Ages 11-14

1st place-Elizabeth H., age 14-"It Started With a Song"

2nd place-Kylie H., age 12-"Think Before You Wish"

3rd place -Caleb H., age 11-"The Confusement Park"

Ages 15-18

1st place-Cassie H., age 15 "White Cliff"

2nd place-Uttara C., age 17 "The Witch"

3rd place-Presley C., age 18-"A Road Trip Gone Wrong: A Documentation of Niteris and its Effects" 

March 5, 1848

March 5, 1848- it started out like any other family road trip.  Today I am starting a journal.  I got one for my 9th birthday and I can't think of a better way to use it.   This week, my family is starting on a journey to the Western expansion from Indiana so we can find gold. It is going to a tough journey to locate the Mormon Trail, but I am helping Papa find last minute supplies and maps.  Since this is going to be a five to six month road trip, we are going to need lots of supplies like dried fruit, bacon, a repair kit and tents.  I don't know what to expect on the trail, but I hear Native Americans might be a threat.

March 7, 1848 - Today is the first day of our road trip.  It got off to a bad start.  Two wagons collided as we pulled out of the town.  Four men from the mill came over to help.  There were supplies everywhere!  Luckily, no one was hurt.  But I made a friend from the other wagon named Joe.  He is also 9 years old- just a few days older than me!  I am so happy I have a friend to play with on this road trip.  It can be lonely being an only child. 

March 10, 1848 - We have been on the road for 3 days and we made it to the first water hole.  I helped Papa fill up the water barrels so we have fresh water to drink.  My new friend Joe and I wanted to go swimming in the water hole, but Mom said it was too cold.  Road trips are not as much fun as I thought!

March 20, 1848- I finally found my journal.  It has been lost for the last ten days.  It was under Mama's pillow in the back of the wagon.  A lot has happen in the last ten days.  I thought I heard a rattlesnake, but it was Joe shaking a can with some beans to play a trick on me.   Boy he got me as I ran for my life!  We made our first river crossing and one mule got stuck and drowned, but the people in that wagon cut the rope before the mule took the wagon down with it.  I am beginning to wonder if this road trip is really worth it just to find some gold. 

April 4, 1848 - Today was a big day.  We arrived at a place called St. Louis.  We saw a beautiful river that Papa said was called the Mississippi River.  We decided we are going to stay here and start a general store.  And Joe's family might stay too.  While it would have been nice to find a pot of gold, I think I am going to like it here.  I am happy our road trip is over!

--Patrick M., age 9

It Started With a Song

It started out like any other family road trip.

The father packed the car, and the mother made the sandwiches for their lunch.

The younger girl assisted her deaf sister, making sure everything was set.

Packing into the Toyota Sienna was a tight squeeze,

and the drive ahead would soon become many things.

It started out with anger.

Why couldn’t we take a plane? Why do we have to save money?

I’m going to be stuck with them for hours, the girl thought.

It started out with solitude.

The father was driving on cruise control. The Take 6 album was on low, so the a cappella music did not even reach the backseat.

The mother was in the passenger’s seat, reading one of the three magazines that she purchased solely for the trip.

The sister broke out her freshly charged Nintendo, took out her hearing aids, plugged in the headphones, and lost herself in a world of men in red hats and mustaches.

The girl cracked open her first book of five. Hours of reading lie ahead.

The van took them farther and farther away from their average town in Midwest suburbia, and closer to their destination beyond the rolling hills.

This solitude lasted for a while.

The magazines were read, games were played, cars were driven, and books were explored long into the night.

Slowly, though, the young girl could feel a sticky silence settle upon the car.

All of the things that they brought were slowly abandoned.

The literature was finished; the Nintendo died; the music was turned off.

It began with the silence.

The van was winding through the cool, dark mountains of the Appalachians on that Saturday night.

To fill the silence, the father did the best thing he knew how to do: he sang.

“People smile and tell me I’m the lucky one…”

“Danny’s Song,” an old Kenny Loggins tune.

The mother’s face broke into a smile.

At night when times got hard, her husband would sing this song.

It gave them both a little hope to move forward.

“He will be like she and me, as free as a dove. Conceived in love. Sun is gonna shine above...”

As the chorus hit, the mother and younger girl joined in.

“Even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you, honey. And everything will bring a chain of love.”

The deaf sister joined in as best she could, quietly humming along.

On that day, the young girl realized something.

This could not happen on a plane.

This was not just another family road trip.

This could only occur in their little van climbing the Appalachian Mountains, reaching new heights.

Like their simples harmonies, they were scraping the heavens.

Wishing away the journey did no good.

Sitting, enjoying, and being thankful made all the difference.

--Elizabeth H., age 14

White Cliff

It started out like any other family road trip…

My head spun as I opened the door of our car, staring dizzily at the mountains before me. A knee jabbed into my back and I staggered forward, barely catching myself from falling on the gravel. Kadan shoved past me, a smug look on his face.

I caught the eye of my mother, but she looked away immediately, pretending to obsess over taking the luggage out.

“Watch out for cliffs,” murmured Kadan in my ear. A chill passed through my body. Come on, Levia, I told myself. He’s your brother. Trust him.

After all the unpacking was done, I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. The cracks in the beams jumped out at me, reminding me of too much. I shivered and rolled over, gripping the covers with tense fingers.

You’ve been here a thousand times, I thought. Get over it.

But still, I couldn’t relax. I rolled off of the bed, walking over to the window. Snow swirled around the pane, dressing the world in brilliant, blinding white. My mind recreated a makeshift fort on that hill, a tall, slender boy as he shoved me in. Too young to recognize his abusive tendencies, I had just stared at him with wide eyes as he began to pile snow in front of the entrance.

“What are you doing, Kaddy?” I had said. But he just smiled maliciously.

Those few hours had been the longest of my life. So cold. Too white…

I gripped the windowsill tightly, shuddering. I wanted to be away from this place as soon as possible.

“Ready for hiking, Levia?” asked my mom cheerfully the next morning. She was dressed in the appropriate wear, a fake smile pasted to her face.

I wished I could say no, but I knew that I couldn’t crush her dreams. This was the only time she ever spent time with me, anyway. “Sure.”

An hour later, we were at the foot of Blanche Montagne, the sheer size stealing my breath even after all these years of seeing it. My mother’s smile at my awe almost made it worth it to be here. Then I met Kadan’s glittering eyes and hugged my arms to my chest.

My legs were unused to this vigorous activity after not having done so for a year, but I gradually got used to it again. My boots dug into the ice and snow and I kept a tight grip on my hiking stick, testing the area in front of me for weak spots. All the while, I saw Kadan in front of me, his dark hair dusted with frost. My mother was by my side, her lips set in a tight line.

This used to be fun, once upon a time.

The wind burned my cheeks and I adjusted my scarf to cover up more of my face. Everything around me was white. White should be the color of joy, of light. But I only associated it with pain.

“Hurry up, Levia,” my mother said. I realized, shocked, that she was several feet in front of me. Kadan turned and gave me that horrible smirk, making me want to stay as far behind as possible. But the look in my mother’s eyes gave me strength and I returned to her side.

I glanced to the right and swallowed. Abruptly, the mountain dropped off in a horrible white cliff, far down as the eye could see. “Watch out for cliffs,” Kadan whispered in my mind once more. Would he really stoop so low?

“Let’s take a drink break,” my mother decided. “We don’t want to get dehydrated.”

Was she really so clueless? Or did she just brainwash herself to think that Kadan wasn’t dangerous?

My brother pulled back to our level and gave me that eerie look, pulling out his canteen. “I’ll stay back with Lev,” he said with a creepy smile. “I’d like to have some bonding time.”

“Of course!” said my mother.

No. I met his gaze and swallowed. I had to keep my guard at all times. Lord, protect me.

“So,” he rasped as we began to hike again. “Getting tired?”

“No,” I said carefully. “Why do you ask?”

“You were lagging.”

“I’m fine.” I glanced at the white cliff again and sent up a prayer. “Are you?”

“Depends on what you’re talking about.”

God, please, heal his mind! “Kaddy, please. You’re scaring me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…” Alarm jolted through me and I latched onto his wrist the moment that his other hand slammed into my back. My feet abruptly left the ice and suddenly I was dangling over the cliff, him as my only lifeline. For once, I saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by anger. “Let go,” he growled.

“Please, Kaddy. You still love me! I know you do!” I pleaded, my heart beating a thousand miles an hour. I kicked the side of the slick white cliff, my gloved hand rapidly slipping from his wrist.

“Levia!” cried my mother.

I used my teeth to tear the glove off of my free hand, grabbing his coat right as my other hand slipped. The glove fluttered down into the abyss, but I was safe. Thank You, God, I thought.

“Kadan, please!” I ripped off the other glove, getting a stronger grip on him. He tried to push me off, but I held on all the tighter. Confusion flashed through his dark eyes.

“God, help me!” I screamed. Panic rushed me and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I love you, Mom. And you too, Kadan, even though…even though you pushed me.”

He let out a strangled cry and suddenly pulled, yanking me up over the top of the white cliff. I toppled into his arms, sobbing as I clutched at him. Thank You, God. His arm slipped around my back and I felt his tears trickle into my hair. Thank You for healing him.

--Cassie H., age 15