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PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: General writing

THANKS FROM YWPABOUT THE PROJECT

Young Writers Project is an inde- pendent nonprot that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites, young-writersproject.org , vpr.net , vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com. YWP also

publishes The Voice, a monthly digi-tal magazine with YWP’s best writ-ing, images and features. To learnmore, go to youngwritersproject.orgor contact YWP at (802) 324-9537.

Each week, Young Writers Project receives several

hundred submissions from students across Vermont

and New Hampshire. A team of staff, mentors and stu-

dents selects the best writing and images for publica-

tion. This week, we present responses to the prompt,

General writing. Read more at youngwritersproject.

org, a safe, civil, online community of writers.

YWP is supported by this newspaper and foundations, businessesand individuals who recognize the

power and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please goto youngwritersproject.org/support , or mail your donation to YWP, 47Maple St., Suite 106, Burlington,

VT 05401.

Special thanks this week to

JANE’S TRUST

Nate Ertle, Essex High School

READ THE JUNE ISSUE

OF YWP’S DIGITAL MAGAZINE

THE VOICE

Go to youngwritersproject.org

to get your FREE subscription!

The raceBY ALANNA SWEET

Grade 4, Union Elementary School

I feel the sweat slowly trickling downmy face. I am determined to win this race.

I’m running against men who wouldnever in a million years think a woman

could win this race.Most of them are ahead of me. No onein the crowd is cheering my name.

I feel small, like a giant is picking meup and squeezing me into dust.

I know I have to run faster if I want toprove my point: women are just as strongas men. I know it’s true. And they’regoing to see. I feel myself speed up. I amnally passing most of the racers. Thecrowd stares in awe.

I’m not doing this race to win the

$10,000 grand prize, I assure you. I’mdoing this because I know women can doanything that men can do. And they’regoing to nd that out soon ... when I win!

The missing jewelsBY IDALEE KELLER


Skye Denworth was new at the jobof being a spy and she was not exactlysneaky.

“Be quiet,” snapped Mr. Allen, herboss. “This is serious. We really needto nd out who stole Katlin’s pricelessnecklace.”

The two crept through the jewelrystore silently.

“Hey!” shouted Skye. “That’s myfriend Taylor!”

“You need to be quiet or you will bered,” barked Mr. Allen. “We’re on amission.”

“Okay, okay,” whispered Skye.Skye and her boss tiptoed through a

dark hallway with glass cases lled withdiamond necklaces.

“Hey,” said Skye. “That necklace onmy right looks identical to the one thatgot stolen from Katlin!”

“You’re right,” cried Mr. Allen, pull-

ing a key out of his jeans pocket. He slidthe key into the keyhole of the shiny glasscase and Skye pulled out the diamondnecklace that belonged to Katlin.

“Kathryn the jeweler must have stolenthe necklace and put it in here to hide it,”said Skye.

Skye, still holding the necklace, creptbehind her boss and they left the roomquickly. The next day they returned thenecklace to Katlin. It turned out that Skyewas a great spy!

Life’s legendBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS

Grade 7, U-32 Middle School

You don’t remember me.My name sparks no recognition in yourblank, near-lifeless eyes.My song is lost in the muddled confusion

of your mind,the dark intertwining webs of yourquickly fading memories.You see me now;that deep, remaining consciousness ofyour mindstruggles to recall me.Tries to place this all too familiar facewith a fantasy.But your futile attempts to rememberdie quickly.

I slip your blue headphones over yourheadfrom when we were kids,from when you were my older brotherthat loved me,and I was your burden you insisted onholding.And the song we used to sing from thosedays long past plays through your head.The blast of memories reects in youreyes,

tales of summer grass and daffodilsthat are not so lost anymore.And I am your last thoughtas your lips rest softly against my fore-handand you smileas the curtains close on your life’s legend,and you die.

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Happening & General




VT 05401.


THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS

Young Writers Project is an inde- pendent nonproft that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites, young-writersproject.org , vpr.net , vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com. YWP also






tion. This week, we present responses to the prompts,

Happening: Begin a piece with the phrase, “I didn’t

know what was happening at the time...” and General.

SomeoneBY REBECCA HARRISON

Grade 12, Homeschool, East Randolph

I wander.I wander and wonder:

when will it stop?I am peeled and raw,“too much in the sun.”No salve, no balm in Gilead.I can’t keep going. I slog on.Up to my knees? Up to my neck?I am sinking fast.Throw a line and hold itor just let me down,let me drown.Don’t save my life and walk away be-

causealone I am.I am alone.Let me lick my wounds,but do not leave me.Too much leaving in my life.Stop. Will someone stay?If I fail, will someone try againwith me? For me?Help me. I am hopeless. Jesus,where are you going?

YWP NEWS

COMING JUNE 1!

WATCH FOR THE JUNE ISSUE


THE VOICE



Kristina Pretty, Essex High School

SpeedBY GRACE DAVIS

Grade 7, Thetford Academy

I didn’t know what was happening at thetime.My upper body was over the handles.For a second, it felt like I was ying.

My feet started to go over the handles aswell.I was going really fast, then I stopped…and I went down, down and down until Ihit the ground.My hands slowed me down but notenough.My head and helmet just barely missed agood sized rock.My knees came ying at the ground.I nally landed on my stomach.

Then I heard my friends’ feet pound asthey came to see if I was okay.I was lifted up and brought inside.Of course there were some tears,but right then all I could think about was,I had to get a new bicycle.

Flying

BY SCARLETT DAVIS


The open door is tempting. I want to jump out of the airplane and y across thesky like a bird. I nally give in and grabmy parachute, sliding it on just before Iplunge out of the plane.

The wind whips through my hair as Ilook at a forest that seems to go on for-ever below me.

A ock of birds appears out of no-

where and ies next to me and disappearsinto the clouds as quickly as it appeared.

I fall closer and closer to the forest

every second. The feeling of falling over-whelms me and I suddenly realize that Ihave forgotten to activate my parachute!

I panic as I crash into the trees and Idesperately try to grab a tree branch. Only20 feet from the ground, I nally grab abranch, but I am weak and the branch is,too. With a sickening crack of the branch,I drop to the ground.

I land in soft pine needles, and slowlyclose my eyes and wait for help.

We are the change

BY PEYTON LANPHEARGrade 8, Crossett Brook Middle School

I didn’t know what was happening all thistime.Society wants you to be someone you’renot. I’m tired of ghting for everything tobe perfect.We want the world to change, but we arethe change.It’s all just a vision, but here we are,

waiting for a fairy tale fantasy.We bring down others, thinking it willshed happiness on ourselves.We receive texts telling us to hurt our-selves. We get pushed against the lockers.Suicidal thoughts.But it’s time for the world to wake up,to help each other up instead of pushingus down.If we want a change, we have to change.It will not get better by chance.

We can’t be afraid.We must stay strong and turn the worldaround.It will all work out and open a newchapter,instead of reading it over and over again.To all the suicidal and depressed teensin this world, you are stronger than youthink.You will get through this, even if it takesthe next couple chapters of your book.

B k f

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: General & Scar




VT 05401.


MGN FAMILY

FOUNDATION



Kevin Huang, Burlington High School






Scar: Write about a scar you have, literal or fgura-

tive; and General writing in any genre.

Break freeBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


To lie in the open canopy of a treeand to swing from its sagging branches,holding onto what you can seeor let it all fall to ashes.

To y up into the evening skyor to fall back down to shoreor to let everything go and say goodbye,and so after you go, you soar.

You could conne yourself to the limitsof the cloudsor journey past the sky.Just break free from the overbearingcrowdand freely fall or y.

Wrap yourself in the safety of a waveor go past daily humanityor let your mind sail open to cravethe thrill of pure insanity.

To steal the sunBY SIERRA HENDERSON


Creeping up the street on a winter night,stealth unseen awaits,the thief that steals without a ght,he captures without bait.

He sneaks from door to door as ice,laughing at the innocents’ fate,stealing what is left of light,drowning out every ame.

He slips through cracks,cloaks you in cold.The one thing he lacksis a sun-warmed soul.

He stares as you freeze and laughs,his heart as black as coal,promising never to give the warmth back,your body now a chilled, empty hole.

His name is unknownfor he changes shape,ice, wind, frost, snow,making you shake.

From the center of your chilled bones,you realize your fate,for when the wind blowsyou need only to wait.

VermontBY JESSICA LAMB

Grade 8, Crossett Brook Middle School

To me, Vermont is a lot of things.Vermont is where I go to school and it’swhere I see all my friends, where wehave really cold winters and just warm

summers.Vermont is where Ben and Jerry’s icecream is crafted and where maple syrupows from the trees.

Vermont is where animals come out toplay in the spring and get tucked away forwinter.

Vermont is where people are friendlyand some towns are small.

There are forests of trees and ferns,where a new world hides.

The Green Mountains are off in the

distance or sometimes right under you.Skiing and snowboarding are the mainsnow sports during the winter.

There are little towns, bigger towns,farms and little villages, and the peopleare nice.

Vermont may be a small state but thepeople who live here have big hearts.

Some people call Vermont the GreenMountain State, the maple syrup state, oreven the small state.

But I call Vermont home. And I likethe sound of that!

READ THE MAY ISSUE


THE VOICE



My favorite scarBY KORRINA CUMMINGS

Grade 8, Crossett Brook Middle School

The scar I’m going to tell you about isthe coolest one I have. It was given to meby my late cat Mufasa. He was my rstcat and I loved him very much. That iswhy the scar is my favorite and also thecoolest. The scar is big and long and onmy neck. It looks very tough and rugged,

but the story behind it is the opposite of

tough and rugged.It was summer and we were about to

go to daycare, but we had to put Mufasaoutside to do his business. He didn’t wantto go, so I picked him up and carried him.When I kicked open the screen door, thenoise spooked him pretty badly. He start-ed ailing everywhere, and I got it rightin the neck. I didn’t have to get stitches,but it hurt for a while, and it looked prettygross.

It is my best scar, and believe me, Ihave a lot of interesting ones, but this one

is b far the coolest

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Manual



power and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please goto youngwritersproject.org/support , or mail your donation to YWP, 47Maple St., Suite 106, Burlington,VT 05401.


THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS



Jo Munson, Essex High School






Manual: Write instructions on how to be a human

being. Read more at youngwritersproject.org .

How to be a humanBY EMILY SMYTH

Grade 8, Craftsbury Academy

Being a human isn’t easy. So whymake it more difcult by trying to liveyour life without any rules, any instruc-tions, any order?

It makes it a simple choice then towant to have an actual manual – one thatyou can hold in your hands – of how to bea human.

It all comes naturally to us, but youcan only go so far. At some point, yourknowledge runs out and ... well, you stopbeing a human being.

You do things out of habit and thingsthat come to your mind right then, which,most of the time, doesn’t make any senseat all.

So you can be reassured that you don’thave to have that happen to you. Becausethis, what you’re reading right now, isthe truest manual you’ll ever have – thesolution to all your human problems, theofcial manual of how to be a human.

Rule #1: Don’t ever, ( I mean ever),wear more than two shades of one colorin an outt. This is a common mistakemade by all humans at least once in a life-time. But you’ll see it everywhere. People

think, “Oh, this will match perfectlybecause this is orange, and so is this,and so are my shoes!” – when really, allthree things are different shades and don’tmatch at all.

Rule #2: Chew with your mouthclosed, especially when you’re eat-ing something dense like cake. End ofdiscussion.

Rule #3: When you’re speaking outloud, never use text language. LOL andGTG and PLOS should be saved for elec-tronic devices only. Plus, it just soundsplain dumb. I mean, really, do you have tosay LOL instead of actually laughing?

Rule #4: If you’re in a social setting,pretend to at least be a little interested inwhat the other person you’re talking tohas to say. It can be hard, but you haveto have what’s called manners. This iswhat’s called “developing social skills.”

Rule #5: When you’re swimming,don’t breathe in, breathe out. Trust me, it

comes in handy.Rule #6: Don’t order spaghetti when in

a public venue. It’s a messy and a not-so-pleasant-to-look-at ordeal. But if you, forsome reason, have a thing about spaghettiand just absolutely have to order it, thenI’ll give you one word of advice: Napkin.

Rule #7: Learn the difference betweenQ-Tips and toothpicks. Don’t mix themup, it could be fatal. (That means dying.)

Rule #8: Don’t pretend that you’re per-

fect Everyone can see through it anyway

READ THE MAY ISSUE


THE VOICE



A beginner’s guideBY CLARA HOFFMAN


Welcome! This pamphlet is designedto help you get through your time as aHomo sapien with as much ease as pos-sible.

Please read thoroughly, check the boxat the bottom, agreeing to not sue us ifyour life sucks, and sign at the line on thebottom.

When you have completed this, ll outthe form and send it to the address on theenvelope provided. We will submit yourform and get you situated as a human asquickly as possible.

1. Your body will be uncoordinatedand oppy at rst. Learning the ways thisbody works will take a long time, and the

body and mind will not be fully maturefor nearly 25 Earth rotations. Be patientand keep this in mind when frustrationarises.

2. You will feel things both pleasur-able and unpleasurable, but for the fullhuman experience, try not to block outall feeling. While this may hurt at somemoments, you will receive pleasure inknowing you lived a full human life. Ex-periencing both satisfying and distasteful

feelings and letting those feelings affectyou is an essential human quality.3. To make the best of your time as

a human, set goals and try your best tofulll them. The human lifetime is short,so ll it with what you have discoveredis interesting. Do not wait until you havetime. This will never happen. Make time.

4. In short, nd things and people youenjoy and grow your connection withthem. Simply surround yourself in thingsthat you enjoy and your life will be plea-surable and fullling.

Learn, love

BY FRANNI HOAG Grade 11, Oxbow High School

First, you must learn. Absorb every-thing; it will be easier than it sounds.You’ll learn how enjoyable it is to eat andwhat the sky looks like on a sunny dayand how home smells. You really won’thave a choice in this matter; it will justhappen. As birthdays pass, you’ll developmore and more characteristics. As this

happens people will develop both posi-

tive and negative opinions of you. You’lllearn not to care; it may take a while.

As you grow, you’ll learn about the

concept of love. I hope that from the mo-ment you are brought into this world youare surrounded by it and nurtured throughyour developing years. If you aren’t, Ihope that you can learn about love as youage. You will understand how wonder-ful it can be, and you will undoubtedlyhave many misconceptions about it. Youmay never work through some of thesemisconceptions.(Read the complete story at youngwritersproject.

org/node/112289.)

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Message & Photo 8



power and value of writing. If youwould like to contribute, please goto youngwritersproject.org/support , or mail your donation to YWP, 47

Maple St., Suite 106, Burlington,VT 05401.


JANE’S TRUST

Young Writers Project is an inde- pendent nonprofit that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites, young-writersproject.org , vpr.net , vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com. YWP also




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, Photo 8 and Message: You send a message

in a bottle. What does it say?

Photo 8. Melissa Morris, Essex High School

Emma Parizo, Essex High School

GlowBY MACY LAWSON


In the dark, I see a glow, a blue glow,an electric blue globeglowing like the moon on a clear Decem-ber night.

I know there is something unique about it.I tiptoe into the darkness, curious and alittle bit frightened,but I continue to approach it.I sit in a chair in front of the mysteriousglowing sphere.As I look into the milky blue globe, I feelas though I have been hypnotized.I lay my hands across the warm, smoothsurface.I see a reflection in its glow that resem-

bles my faceas if I am looking into a mirror but some-how different.I rub my hands across the sphere.I hear an echoey voice in the small, draftyroom saying,“I will inform you about your near fu-ture.”My heart stops for a moment; I am surenothing good will happen.“Your future is bright like a shooting staron a foggy winter day.”My heart seems to start beating again as Ihear the good news.I glance around the small room to seewhere the voice is coming from.I gaze back into the sphere,but my reflection is gone.I get a chill down my neck when I realizethere is still a figure in the globe,an electric blue figure,glowing in the darkness…

A letter to youBY MADDIE FRIEND


I wrote this letter to you.I hope it finds you, wherever you are.I hope your new life is full of happiness,unlike the one you chose to leave behind.

You never know how much you will bemissed until you are gone.I ask myself every day how I can con-tinue to live without you.The answer is always the same.I can’t.Every day I had with you repeats itself inmy mind, over and over again.I am no longer living in the present.I am living with you and all the memorieswe share.My only hope is that you are living withme, too.I sometimes wonder if I should move onfrom this life, like you moved on withyours.That way I could always be with you, andyou with me.But I know I cannot do that.I know I cannot leave behind this life,now that I know what it is like to livewithout the someone you love the most.I need you to know that wherever you are,you are in the right place.I wish you were here with me but I knowthat you are happy now.And that’s all I ever wanted for you.Just know that wherever you are, whoeveryou are now,you are and will always be my bestfriend.

WitchcraftBY MORGAN BUSBY


Witchcraft.That’s what everyone thought it was.But not me.I knew it wasn’t.It was only the ball, not her.The glowing ball, weird, but mesmerizing.

It was not the girl.Witchcraft.That’s what everyone thought it was.But not me.

MORE GREAT WRITING AT

YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT .ORG

&

T HE V OICE

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


FEATURED PHOTO

THIS WEEK: Unjust & General






PHYSICIAN’S COMPUTER CO.

Young Writers Project is an inde- pendent nonprofit that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites, young-writersproject.org , vpr.net , vtdigger.

org , and cowbird.com. YWP also publishes The Voice, a monthly digi-tal magazine with YWP’s best writ-ing, images and features. To learnmore, go to youngwritersproject.orgor contact YWP at (802) 324-9537.






Unjust: Write about an injustice you’ve seen; and

General writing. More at youngwritersproject.org.

The hawkBY CLAIRE THOMPSON


Clasping his perch with cragged claws,his beak is bronze,sharpened by the night.His eyes are stars,

glowing against the sky.The sky is his kingdom.The sky is his world.But it is not his sky.The hawk glides high over the hillsscanning the land for his quarry.And suddenly,like a bullet, like a bolt,he swoops and he soars,high, high, into mystical midnight,magical moonlight,and downlike a thunderstorm hurtling to the earth.He is the predator.He is the night.He catches his prize and sleeps.He is the king of the sky,but it is not his sky.It is the world’s sky,and the world is a circle.The world is a vicious circle.The eagle glides high over the hills,scanning the land for his quarry.

A.J. Combs, Essex High School


T HE V OICE

&


The new kidBY EMMA REA


She was standing alone, a new girl, Ipresume, quiet and shy. But like the shyand quiet person I am, I just walked byher and ignored her like everyone elsedid.

I went to where I knew I was supposedto be and tried to forget about her. Then Inoticed her walk into my class. I lookedup from my book, but didn’t make eyecontact. She was really quiet, and no onewas talking to her still. When she satdown at a table alone everyone acted likeshe was some weird alien. I noticed howeveryone was whispering about her orgiving her a strange look.

I just pushed it all aside and ignored

it once again, turning back to my book.During the week, I heard things about herfrom my friends, and I tried not to listenbecause I hated the gossip. But I endedup figuring out that everyone was being judgmental because she had dated some-one who wasn’t the coolest kid.

All I could ask myself was, how badhave we gotten? So bad that we have theright to judge someone before we get toknow them because they dated someone

who wasn’t all that cool, or they don’tlook like other people? How is that fair?

She’s just another human being. So shedated a weird person; that’s no reason toignore her, or not talk to her. It doesn’tmake her any less of a person.

What is this going to do to her? She’salready new at the school, not sure whereher classes are. She doesn’t know anyone,and she is probably coming into schoolafraid every day. Now we add whisperingabout her to the mix.

What is that going to do to her? Howis it going to affect her identity or herself-esteem?

If only I had told everyone that outloud, maybe they would have left heralone, maybe she would have somefriends, or at least one.

This is life; and fear of being picked onbecause you started to talk to the new girlthat everyone thought was weird takesover your emotions.

And we are all forced to sit there qui-etly and observe as society tears a younggirl limb from limb with its words.

I should have just helped her.

You stood thereBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


His fist was raised,the pallor of his handmatching the red angry marks on the

child’s face.She stood tall,but her eyes cowered in the farthestcorner,begging for escape.And what did you do?You stood there.You, who I have respected all my life,the big girl down the street that alwaysknew what to do.And you did nothing.

So I ran toward the childin a desperate attempt to do something,anything.You tried to grab me, but I slipped past.I tried to tackle the man,and as he grabbed his whip and turnedtoward me,I looked to you.And you gave me that patronizing lookthat you did when we were kids,and threw back your headto laugh.

T W V t Y f l i i h iC h h i d

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Vermont






THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS




hundred submissions from students across Vermont and

New Hampshire. A team of staff, mentors and students

selects the best writing and images for publication. This

week, we present responses to the prompts, Vermont:

Write about your Vermont. Read more at youngwriter-

sproject.org .

Bri Lancaster, Essex High School

You feel it in the airBY CHRISTIAN BOLDING

Grade 9, Northfield High School

First snowfall of Vermont –you wake and know it has come.You don’t have to check,don’t have to look.

Anyone who knows it like youdoesn’t need to.It can be felt in the air,the familiar crisp, cold winter chillthat reaches your feetwhen you rise from the bedto start the December day.You can tell the night before, too.When you see the clouds,thickening and clustering,turning gray and filling the sky,you know the Nor’easter is on its way.It shall rage through the nightwhile you sleep,soft and warm by the wood-burning fire,next to the glow of an indoor evergreen,decorated for the birth of a prince.Finally, you awaken and seeall it has covered of your New Englandhome:the barn across the dirt road,the once-green mountains and woods,the red of the scattered covered bridges.However, you are a child no more.You do not play in what has fallen fromheaven.You no longer cherish its appearance.You ignore it, regard it as a nuisance,continue on with your life,as that is what society has commanded ofyou.You pretend not to fill up with pride andadmirationwhen you see Vermont’s first winter snowatop the magnificent Golden Dome.

NEXT PROMPTS

Hidden. A character discovers some-thing that has been hidden in the family’sattic for years. This could change every-thing. Alternate: Pet. If your cat, dog,horse, ferret, or other pet could talk, whatwould be its first words to you?; or Fam-

ily. Your notoriously dysfunctional familyis having a big reunion. Let the mishapsbegin. Due April 17

Scar. Write about a scar you have, lit-eral or figurative. Tell the story. Alternates: Zombies. Scary? Misunderstood? Give usyour best story about the undead; or Gen-eral writing in any genre. Due April 24

CLIMATE CHANGE WRITING CHALLENGE

WRITE AND WIN CASH! DEADLINE EXTENDED!

1st place: $100 | 2nd: $75 | 3rd: $50

PROMPTS AND MORE DETAILS:

youngwritersproject.org/climate15

DEADLINE EXTENDED! APRIL 17

Presented by Vermontivate!,

Vermont Energy Education Program

& Young Writers Project

Catch the windBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


The majestic windswept treestands high on a mighty hill,its branches reaching out toward the sky,praying to the stars.

In my mind there are thrashing thoughts,thoughts trapped in a nightmarish slum-ber,full of smashing and pain and no more.I came to the tree and spilled out my life,beating it in order to find an unreachableescape,too worn to catch an airborne leafthat drifted past my ear.So, go child,and find the tree,the tree of a thousand stories,and watch the wind sweep through thebranches,and catch the airborne leaf.Reach out and catch the wind,my child,go ahead and try.Be the one I could not be —and fly.

Vermont’s seasonsBY ZOE WHITE

rade 7, U-32 Middle School

SPRING: This is the season when theind still nips and the flowers bloom, theirds chirp and the great bears awakenrom their winter slumber. It’s when chip-unks and squirrels come out to find their

uried treasure, and deer can finally play

nd eat the new grass instead of tree bark.SUMMER: My favorite of all, when the

warm summer breeze fills you with joy,when school is out and you go places andget outside, where the grass is gettingcut and people are having fun. It’s whenthe best storms come with rain, thunderand lightning, and sometimes a rainbow.When you’re little, you are told that thereare pots of gold at the end of the rainbow.

FALL: The most colorful of them

all, when the trees are red, yellow andorange; when you make big leaf piles toump in; when you stack firewood for

cold nights. It’s the time of Thanksgivingwhen we all get stuffed and the great, bigturkey is nice and golden brown.

WINTER: Last but not least, there is theblanket of white, when we all need wintercoats and boots and ski pants. Don’tforget mittens and hats to play in the cold,

uffy snow.

T W S f & G l CC

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


MORE GREAT STUDENT WRITING AT

YOUNGWRITERSPROJECT.ORG

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Safe & General


NEXT PROMPTS



North St., Suite 8, Burlington, VT05401.


MGN FAMILY FOUNDATION





New Hampshire. This week, we present responses to

the prompts, Safe: Where do you feel safe? and Gen-

eral writing in any genre. Read more at youngwriter-

sproject.org, a safe, civil, online community of writers,

and The Voice, YWP’s monthly digital magazine.

Mya Burghardt, Essex High School

Hidden. A character discovers somethingthat has been hidden in the family’s atticfor years. This could change everything.

Alternate: Pet. If your cat, dog, horse,ferret, or other pet could talk, what wouldbe its first words to you?; or Family. Yournotoriously dysfunctional family is hav-ing a big reunion. Let the mishaps begin.Due April 17

WRITE AND WIN CASH!

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



DEADLINE APRIL 10

Presented by Vermontivate!, Vermont Energy

Education Program & Young Writers Project

CLIMATE

CHANGE WRITING

CHALLENGE

CoveBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


Images of her dance in my mind:seething with rage and pain,a look of pleading behind her menacingeyes.You sit,knees just barely touching across fromme.The endless herd of bright, colorful anddark-clothed peoplethat walks around us –they cry, they laugh, they sing.But we are the only ones who saw,the only ones who see.It’s just us and her.And she’s towering above us.Or was.So, take me to them.Blind me once more.In their make-believe lands of happinessand dreams.Take us out of this nightmare,let us walk with the others.Let us forget what we saw,what we know,what we see,and shield us from the things that prowlin the land where we are now.

Take us somewhere safein your strong, loving arms that used tosolve everything.But this burden is too strong for even younow.You can’t carry part of mine as you usedto,as well as yours.You were the one who always shieldedme.You protected me,

but not from her.You couldn’t.You can bear this weight easier than I canthough,without mine to add on.So with your last, final stance,you take my broken wings in your arms,and fly me to a covein this nightmarish land,where we can wait out the worst of thestorm,

hide us in the very eye of the tornado,and live in a false peace.But you knowthat your mission is complete.We will always be safe.

Wounded deerBY EVA SAND

Grade 4, Union School

Everyone thought Lynn Mcduff was astrange young lady because she alwayshad a leash, harness and medical kit withher when she walked her dog. But she hada perfect reason for it.

She was always finding stray dogs.One day, while she was walking her dogFlapjack, he started to bark and Lynn ac-cidentally dropped the leash.

“Flapjack, come back here!” yelled

Lynn.When she caught up with Flapjack, hewas still barking. Lynn looked at what hewas barking at. It was a deer. She thoughtits left leg had been hit by a car.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she cried.“Come on this soft grass. I will take careof that wound.”

So she put the deer in a harness,clipped on a leash and started to walkdown the street with a deer and a dog ona leash.

When Lynn got home, she had anidea. She had a dog pen with a roof inher backyard and she had a friend whoworked at the animal care center. She gotsome supplies from him to take care ofthe deer.

It was hard taking a deer on a walkbecause it wanted to run, but couldn’tbecause of its limp. Also, taking care ofthe deer made Lynn have to quit work fortwo months.

Every day, Lynn stayed with the deerto keep it calm. The deer was frightenedfor about a week but then got used to it.

Week after week, the deer’s leg gotstronger. It even played with Flapjack.

So at the end of the two months, it washealed. Lynn called her friend and hegave the deer a thorough checkup. It wasreleased into the wild and every once inawhile the deer would visit.

Lynn ended up getting a job at the

animal care center

APRIL ISSUE!

YWP’s monthly

digital magazine

FREE subscription:

youngwritersproject.org

THIS WEEK: VermontMy Vermont YWP NEWS

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




&

T HE V OICE

YWP’S DIGITAL MAGAZINE

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Vermont






JANE’S TRUST



Sophia Cannizzaro, Homeschool, West Glover





week, we present responses to the prompt, Vermont:

Describe your Vermont. Read more at youngwriter-

sproject.org, a safe, civil, online community of writers.

My VermontBY CHARLIE DARMSTADT


A crocus brave enough to be the first totaste the cool spring air,my Vermont in spring is bright, cool andfair.My Vermont spring runs with sap andsugar atop the snow,and a sour pickle and warm doughnut issure to make a cold face glow.As the mud dries up and the buds finishbloom,we know for sure, summer is comingsoon.The sun is bright and snow is a sillythought.We can’t wait to use our swim trunks thatwe just bought,for summer’s here; it’s hot and sweaty.Our gardens come alive and our zucchinisare growing.Without a doubt, I love my Vermont inpart for its summer,for in my Vermont summer, only a sun-burn is a bummer.The air is chilling and the trees still stand,but their leaves start to fall;crackling corn stalks warn us my Vermontautumn is upon us all.My ridge now bares an unmarred viewand Canada geese take to the skies.Apples and pumpkins get picked andeaten, carved or put in pies.After loads of Halloween sweets wesit down to dine for a time to give ourthanks.We say good bye to autumn in my Ver-mont, prepare for winter and stow ourrakes.I see the snow’s first fall and we all yell:Snow! Hooray!We light wood stoves and gulp our cocoato keep the cold at bay.A sled and shovel are an obligation forall;there’s time for fun and our jobs we stall.With crystal snow and marshmallows, myVermont rejoices.My Vermont is perfect in all of MotherNature’s choices.

YWP NEWS

CLIMATE CHANGE

WRITING CHALLENGE

WRITE AND WIN!

1st place: $100 | 2nd: $75 | 3rd: $50



DEADLINE: APRIL 10




MontpelierBY CULLEN HAUPT


I have lived in Vermont for about 12years. Vermont is a beautiful place tolive, especially in the mountains. You geta great view of the mountains and thetowns around you.

In the winter, the land is covered witha blanket of snow. In the spring, thereare many wildflowers in the woods. AndMontpelier – oh, I didn’t even mentionMontpelier. Montpelier is the capital ofVermont and it is a very nice city.

HomeBY CAMILLE CHENEY


Red, yellow, green and gold, the leavesin the fall are very bold. Beautiful andcold, with icy nights, winter in Vermont isnot a fright. In the woods around us, thebirds sing; nature in Vermont is flourish-ing.

Your friends stay with you to help youout; they follow you without a doubt. Thefun here never ends – from swimmingto hiking to sledding with friends. Younever run out of things to do. This is my

Vermont I like it Do you?

All seasonsBY ELLIE FARR


Snow covers the ground. A cold windleaves a coating of frost on your face. Youlong for summer, somewhere tropical andwarm. A puff of steam rises from your hotcocoa; you wait to take a sip, in fear ofburning your tongue. Flurries fly.

But before you know it, the white,fluffy pillow of snow turns to slushy,brown lumps, scattered across the yellowgrass. The ice on the dirt roads becomes

a trap for everyone who dares drive onthem. But out of the forest emerges anamber liquid, like nectar that the godsdrank in Greek mythology. Just thinkingabout it makes your mouth water. Youslowly pour some on your pancakes and itsmoothly runs down the edges. You savorit. Delicious.

And just as you finish, you realizesummer is already here. The grass isgreen, the sun is shining and the sky is

blue. You spring into a lake that reflectsthe colors of the sky. You soar for a fewgolden seconds before you are surroundedby cool water.

All of a sudden, it seems, the leavesturn from a vibrant green, to variousshades of red, yellow and orange. Touristsflock to see the trees. The weather getscolder with every passing day, and yourealize that the year flew by like a HermitThrush. The cycle begins again.

I love Vermont, my Vermont.

THIS WEEK: General writing YWP NEWSVincent

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK



NEXT PROMPTS





THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS







week, we present responses to the prompt for General

writing. Read more at youngwritersproject.org, a safe,

civil, online community of writers.

YWP NEWSVincentBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


I sometimes sit and wonderwhat you were thinking when you did it.Was your life so badthat it just had to end?I remember the fields that day,when you set out to paint.I could never understandwhy they mesmerized you so,like your swirls of blazing starsin twilight blue lightcould hold me in your cluttered house forhours each day.You never liked to clean,preferred a cluttered pallet.I tried once; do you remember?It was on a day when you stayed in beduntil noon, wailing silently this timeabout the voices in your head.I could tell you were not yourself,but you pushed me away whenever I gotnear.I tried sitting in your parlor to wait foryou to get up, but I was bored.You were the one that filled my emptyhours, you were the one that told me themagic of colors.So I cleaned your house, just one room,

to keep myself occupied.When you finally came down,you went straight to the kitchen.You grabbed a biscuit and crumbled it up.I was about to ask you what you weredoing,when you came back and threw all thecrumbs around the room.We both laughed so hard.But your laugh is fading.Can you laugh again?

I need to hear it one last time,before I let you go.But I didn’t come here to tell you storiesyou already know,I came with a painting,the one you gave me.It was nothing really,or so you said.Just a close-up of your beautiful stars.I also came with your best paintbrushand paints.

Your blues, yellows and reds.Those were always your favorite,and oh, I brought orange, too.It’s almost all used up,but I brought it anyway,in hopes that you could paint me somemore stars.I know you can’t,but I’ll leave them here, right next to you,a little ways beneath the soil.

(continued next column)

You might have to reach up a bit to getthem. I don’t know how far down they

buried you.I hope you can paint me one last picture.The stars are beautiful tonight.You would have loved them.We would have gone out into the flowingamber grain fields, and I would lie on myback as you would paint,with a piece of grass between my teeth,gazing up as you transferred the sky ontoyour canvas.I’ll lie with you here, for one night again.

If ou want to come back

you must know you are welcome.I hope though, you are happy now, where

you are.You rarely were, where I am now.But Vincent, dear Vincent, I am alone.Your laugh, you took it with you whenyou went away,and now you are never coming back.I wish you would come lie down with me.My mother worries.Maybe if you came back, she wouldn’tworry.If you came back ...

Dylan Sayamouangkhua, Burlington High School

CLIMATE CHANGE

WRITING CHALLENGE

WRITE AND WIN!

First place: $100Second place: $75 | Third place: $50



DEADLINE: APRIL 10




CompassionBY OLIVIA TOOHEY

Grade 6, Main Street Middle School

The cold is finding its way in the worldand the fear is instilling into their hearts.Anarchy and chaos are unleashed intothe piercing wind, howling angrily forthe sweet vengeance of Mother Nature.

And although the songbirds sing sweetly,they mourn the memory of long-agotimes,when the knowledge that mankind holdsdid not sting like venom,with things we know and should not.

And still we yearn for wisdom,as that is what we cannot hold,or grasp, even the edges of concept,because wisdom requires compassion.And we are without compassion.

Unjust. Write about an injustice you’vewitnessed or experienced. What shouldbe done about it? Alternates: Lists: Writetwo lists – your top 10 likes and top 10dislikes; or General writing in any genre.Due April 3

THIS WEEK: Manual & Queasy Never apartNerves

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Manual & Queasy






VERMONT BUSINESS

R OUNDTABLE



Carolyn Harnois, Essex High School





week, we present responses to the prompts, Manual:

Write instructions to being human; and Queasy: Put

your character in an uneasy situation.

YWP NEWS

Never apartBY DAINA TAYLOR

Grade 12, Spaulding High School

After you have dotted every ‘i’and crossed every ‘t’ –because life isn’t complete until every ‘t’is crossed and every ‘i’ has a dot –I will cross my fingers and cross myheart.Then we won’t ever have to be apart.

NervesBY RANDI CARPENTER


Aerolyn internally cringed as shewalked into the crowded living room,her arms instinctively wrapping aroundher stomach as her teeth grazed upon herbottom lip.

She wasn’t one for crowds, neverhad been. She wasn’t a claustrophobicperson, but she didn’t like being aroundbig groups of people; they made her feeluncomfortable. Aerolyn was an extremeintrovert, avoiding talking to new peopleand trying to get out of outgoing activitieswhen she could. It made it hard for her tomake friends, but somehow she managedto make do. She was really only therebecause her friend Kaelin had insisted.

There were times when Aerolynthought to herself about certain things.Often, she found herself thinking aboutbeing an extrovert. How it would feelto act out like her friends, shouting sillythings to each other as they walked downthe street.

The thoughts often came up when shewas with her friends, and she couldn’thelp but feel jealousy in the pit of herstomach when she watched them danc-

ing crazily at the dances. Sometimes shewould try to act like them, but the nerveswould end up taking over, making herback down from the situation. She tried,but no matter how hard she seemed totry, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t makeherself act like her friends, no matter howmuch she wanted to.

“Aero!” She heard a voice shout. A tanboy with dark hair appeared before her, agrin spreading across his face.

“Glad you could make it!” Kaelin

shouted as he wrapped his arms aroundher in a quick hug before pulling away.

He enjoyed her company, even if shewasn’t always out there, and tended tostick to the sidelines, being quiet. Heliked her for who she was. Being an ex-trovert wasn’t everything; you could stillbe a great friend and make friends whilebeing an introvert, she thought.

“Why are you standing here? Whyaren’t you talking to the others and hav-

ing fun?” he questioned, a small frown onhis face.“You know that I have a rough time

with those kinds of things. I try, but in theend I just can’t,” she said.

“Yes, you can,” Kaelin insisted, plac-ing his hands on her shoulders, brushingher red-orange hair away from her face.

“I know you, and I know that you cando it. You just have to try. Don’t give upnow.” He smiled encouragingly.

(continued at right)

“Try talking to Carter. I’m sure youwill get along. You guys have similartastes in music, and he’s a bit shy, too.”

While Kaelin was okay with Aerolyn

being the way she was, he knew shewasn’t happy where she was, so he triedto help her go where she wanted to go.Soon, a dark red couch was in sight, asingle boy sitting on it.

“Carter, I’d like you to meet Aerolyn,”Kaelin introduced them before steppingback so that they could see each other.

“Hey,” Carter said. “Hi,” she replied abit shyly, taking a seat beside him. “I’msorry for being so shy and awkward, I’m

just not always the best with people.”

“It’s alright,” Carter said, chuckling.“I’m not always the best with people,either.”

It didn’t take long before the two were

chatting up a storm, talking about bandsand other things that they had in common.Aerolyn didn’t even notice when Kaelinhad left to go talk to other guests.

Talking to Carter seemed to have takenher mind off of the nerves that were swirl-ing around in her stomach. Maybe talkingto other people did do her some good.She just needed a chance to get to knowthem first.

THE VOICE

READ THE MARCH ISSUE!

Go to youngwritersproject.orgto get your FREE subscription

of YWP’s monthly digital magazine!

CLIMATE CHANGE

WRITING CHALLENGE

WRITE AND WIN!

First place: $100

Second place: $75 | Third place: $50PROMPTS AND MORE DETAILS:


DEADLINE: APRIL 10




THISWEEK: Secret & PhilosopherMy secret VERMONT

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




PHOTO OF THE WEEK

THIS WEEK: Secret & Philosopher














Secret: Write about a secret that people must never

know; and Philosopher: Wax philosophic.

TimeBY CLAIRE THOMPSON


t’s 8:53.ime goes on eternally,ontinuous rhythm

ike a heartbeat,ut not a heartbeat.earts will stop.locks will run down,ut tireless time keeps ticking on.ireless time keeps ticking on.t’s 8:55.’ve never seen the wind blow. can hear its whispered rumors.’ve never seen the cold.can feel its icy bite.

’ve never seen the time,ever heard it,ouched it, smelled it.et it is real, and it has changed me,hanged me more than ever before.t’s 9:07.ime is a force, motionolding our world together and tearing uspart,

giving our elders pain,

giving our children growth.ur seeds sprout into bloom,ach one diverse and beautiful. was a seednd now I am sprouting.still don’t know how I will bloom.nly time will tell.

My secretBY FRANCES KAPLAN


Hidden, where it must stay,locked in a box, tucked away.Behind my bed,against the wall.Late at night,

I feel its call.A whisper,so dark and deep.A secret,for me to keep.I tried my bestto keep it safeI tried so hard,but it escaped.My heart, my love, my careful plan,torn apart by loving hands.

Eric Wakim, Essex High School

VERMONTWRITES DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!

IT’S THE DAY WE STOP

EVERYTHING TO WRITE!

By legislative proclamation, March12 is Vermont Writes Day. This is

Young Writers Project’s sixth VermontWrites Day, and first proclamation! All students, teachers, principals &members of the community are invitedto write for just seven minutes to oneof the seven prompts below. YWP willopen a special web site, vermontwrites-day.org, where writing can be posteddirectly, only on that day. Writing canalso be submitted on youngwritersproj-ect.org – or with pen and paper.

The best writing of the day will bepublished in this newspaper and in aspecial issue of The Voice, YWP’s digitalmagazine. Find out more at youngwriter-sproject.org/VTWrites15.

THE PROMPTS

1. 2065: It’s the year 2065. De-

scribe the coolest invention of the day.Tell a story about how you use it.2. School. What do you wish your

school would do or provide that itdoesn’t do/provide now?

3. Animal: You’ve been granted awish to be transformed into an animalfor 24 hours. What animal would yoube? Why? Tell a story of what happens.

4. Staircase: It’s midnight. Youcan’t sleep. You open the door to your

bedroom and there, in the hall, is afantastic staircase that you’ve never seenbefore. What do you do? What happens?

5. Six: Write as many six-wordstories as you can.

6. Free Write: Write about any-thing! Tell a story!

7. Photo: Write from the perspec-tive of anyone, or anything in the photobelow.

When she begins to singBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


The tunnel is dark,full of secrets,waiting to be unearthed.She is waiting,the second time the tunnel turns,for you.

When the opening closes behind you,there is nothing you can do.You must go to her,and she will talk to you.Just be sure to runwhen she begins to sing.

THIS WEEK: Photo 6 & DetectiveWhispering snow YWP NEWS & EVENTS

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK / PHOTO 6






JANE’S TRUST






students selects the best writing for publication. This

week, we present responses to the prompts, Photo 6

and Detective: Write about a librarian who finds a

mysterious package. More at youngwritersproject.org.

Whispering snowBY LUCY WOOD


Snow whispers across the barren land-scapeFluffy flakes brushing the frozen groundPine trees bowing into the windMice scurrying to find shelter from thestorm at handRolling hills subsiding to the snowThe sun will soon retireMaking way for the storm to take overThe clouds will blanket the skyThe wind will puff over the groundThis eerie calm will soon leaveBut for nowEnjoy the peace before the pandemonium

Every dayBY CLAIRE THOMPSON


I walk the path marked by millions offootsteps before my own,millions of people, who never dreamed atnight,never sang to the moon,

never counted the stars.And they walked blindly to the light,their hazy days dwindled by,shorterand shorteruntilthe very laststep.And everyone criedand took another stepand never looked back,

their spirits frozen in the sky,the mystical sky.They are goneand they will live onclouds but never stars.I step away from the path marked by mil-lions of footsteps before my own,and make my footprint on the world.

Photo 6. Kevin Huang, Burlington High SchoolNEXT PROMPTS

Decision. Think of a time you hadto make a difficult decision and createa fictional character who makes theopposite choice from the decision youmade (or would make) in this situa-tion. What would turn out differently? Alternates: Idea. Write about a seem-ingly bad idea that turns out great; orManual. Write instructions on how tobe a human being. Due March 13

We are nothingBY NORA DILLON


What if everything is actually nothing?What if our supposedly gigantic universeis a tiny speck the size of an ant? Ouruniverse, all known planets and solar sys-

tems actually tiny atoms of nothing?What if there were other people in an

alternate universe looking down on us inour tiny world, studying us?

We may not have even been discoveredby those in the abyss. All of our amaz-ing inventions, discoveries, technology...meaningless.

We are nothing.

Y t thi

Good eveningBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


I looked through her files.Nothing criminal,no noted offenses.I fingered the label in my hand;Good Evening, it said,in mutilated letters.There was no evidence of how she disap-peared.No recent calls on the phone.

No letters hidden underneath the mattress.No one after her.She lived an ordinary life,a librarian at the elementary school.Nothing exciting.Or extreme.Yet she disappearedwithout a trace.No one knows where she is,but the label on the desk –it saw – but cannot or will not speak.

It ill

VERMONT WRITES DAY

IS THURSDAY, MARCH 12!Stop everything to write for just 7 min-utes! Get your school involved! More at youngwritersproject.org/VTWrites15.

CLIMATE CHANGE WRITING CHALLENGE

WRITE AND WIN PRIZES!

FOR PROMPTS AND MORE DETAILS:


DEADLINE: APRIL 10

THIS WEEK: You, Button & Decision Red buttonThe tree of life

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK

,






AMY E. TARRANT

FOUNDATION





and New Hampshire. This week, we present responses

to the prompts, You: Someone tells you something

because “you’re the only one who will understand;”

Button: Pressing buttons can be irresistible, but

wait!; and Decision: Write about making a decision.

Haley Thon, Essex High School

BY FRANCES KAPLAN


Don’t do it!Don’t press the button!You know what it will do.It will destroy us all.

But it’s red!

And shiny! I’m pressing it.

BY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


She turned to the girl sitting in the cor-ner and spoke in a soft, gentle voice.

“I need to tell you something,” shewhispered. “Because you’re the only onewho will understand.”

The girl shrank back into the wall,cowering in the corner as if, if she pressedhard enough, it would envelop her intowarm, loving arms.

“There is a tree,” the woman contin-ued. “Way at the edge of the city.

“You must go to the tree where thebirds are singing sweetly, and the windplays in the thick branches. You mustclimb the tree every day and whisper to itthe stories of the sky.

“You’ve been there, I know. Onlya child could see the wonders of theclouds.”

The child looked at her with wide,knowing eyes, and whispered in a small,scared voice. “Okay,” she said, and thewoman left.

The child got up, her dirty legs shakingwith anticipation, and she walked out thedoor to the bustling city.

She walked for hours until all she feltlike doing was curling up at the side ofthe street and falling into a deep, darksleep. But she continued on until shefound a tree exactly as the woman hadsaid, and she climbed into the thickbranches where the birds were singingsweetly and the wind played with herhair.

And she told it the stories of the skyand the clouds, of way up high that only achild can reach. She climbed back downand slept at its roots.

The next day, she told it a story andleft.

She went back to the city where nobirds were found and the breeze stank ofstale garbage, wafting out of the alleys.

She returned every day, back to thetree, walking for hours to tell it the se-crets, and she was happy.

For every day for the rest of her life,she went to the tree and whispered to itthe stories of the sky.

And one day, she came to the tree, anold woman, strong from her many walksto the tree, yet tired from the stress of theworld.

She sat at the tree, for she could nolonger climb it, and told it her final tale.

“Goodbye,” she whispered with asingle tear, and she lay back, her lifecomplete.

And as she took her final breath, andwrapped her arms around the tree andgrew into it – a branch of the ever-

Supersilly. Come up with a hilari-ous, seemingly useless superpower andexplain how one might defeat a villainusing it. Alternates: Secret. Write about asecret (real or fictional) that people mustnever know; or People. Write about asecret people (a hidden population) thatmost – but not all – people never know.Due March 6

DecisionsBY DAINA TAYLOR


Decisions are one of the hardest thing

to make, but never, ever listen to peoplewho you notice just want the worst foryou. In my life, I’ve experienced manynegative remarks.

I was told I’d never get a job, butguess what? A few days later, I receiveda call in which I was informed that I gota job. It’s been almost two years and I’mstill working there!

I’ve been told I’ll never make it tocollege, but my mind has been set on

not giving up. After waiting almost fourmonths for a decision, I was finally ac-cepted to the college that was my numberone choice. I was also accepted at anothercollege and received a scholarship. Nowit’s time to make my final decision.

A wise man makes his own decisions,an ignorant man follows public opinion.

growing tree of life – she looked down asa young boy came slinking down the roadand listened to his first story; welcomedeach human that came to die at the tree;and accepted them into the tree of life.

Years passed and many men came tochop down the tree for wood to burn intheir homes.

But the tree stood tall and not a dentwas made in the beautiful tree of life.

NEXT PROMPTS

MARK YOUR CALENDARS!

Vermont Writes Day is Thursday,

March 12! It’s the day we stop

everything to write for just seven

minutes! Find out more at young-

writersproject.org/VTWrites15.

THIS WEEK: Change YWP EVENTSChoice

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK






THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS



Addie Scanlon, Essex High School




to the prompts, Change: In a poem or story, use the

phrase, “that’s when everything changed.” Read more

great writing at youngwritersproject.org, a safe, civil,

online community of writers.

Exchange studentBY NARONGSAK THAMAJATTANA


Can you imagine when you live in your own country and now you live in America?That’s when everything changed. A new culture, friends, weather and environment.

It’s a good thing to change something and live with a family in America. For me, theexchange program is good because it has changed my life, such as speaking English all

d Al I h d b f

FateBY THERRAN ADAMS

Grade 9, Harwood Union High School

The day was flying by me.I had lost the time.I couldn’t believe itwhen I was told I was alone.I couldn’t believe they were really gone.I was free at last.But I had nowhere to go.That’s when everything changedI was free from their harassment,their constant pressure to be perfect,free from their hateful looks of failurewhen they were the ones who needed tochange.He stepped into the office,hearing the commotion.He offered his servicesto keep me by his side.I had no other choice.I knew him, but not well.I took my chances for his hospitality.That’s when everything changed.He took me back to where I no longercalled home.I collected my things and locked the doorbehind me.I looked out behind for the last time,not knowing where I was going, butknowing where I’d been ... Read the complete story at youngwritersproj-

ect.org/node/107480.

MARK YOUR CALENDARS! Vermont Writes Day is Thursday,

March 12! It’s the day we stop

everything to write for just seven

minutes! Find out more at young-

writersproject.org/VTWrites15.

BY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


I couldn’t see him,but I knew he was there.The smell of lavender soapwas strong on his body.By the way he shifted awkwardlyfrom foot to foot,in his big, clunky boots,I knew he was the police.I turned, my sunglasses nearly falling offmy head, to face the man.I breathed in his smell,so I could recognize himif I were to meet him again,the way only a blind man would.As he spoke, in a rough, gravelly voice,I froze,

listening to the words he said carefully.Then he handed me something.It was the very thing I had wished for asa child.Something blind children had wished forfor so many years.The thing that I had attempted to make,in 2034, at 8 years old,blending random chemicals that Icouldn’t see.The policeman said, “Try them on.”

I slipped off my glasses with shakinghands,and shut my eyes, placing the new glasseson my head.The sights hit me all at once,overpowering all my sensesthat had strengthened after all these years.I crouched down to the floor,shutting my eyes tight, and removing theglasses.I put my old ones on, and stood up.

Then I just stood there.Because that’s when everything changed.For the first time in my life,I had a choice.Whether I would take it or notwas completely up to me.I shut them up in the box the man hadgiven me, and placed it on my desk.Then I said one thing: “Thank you.”He turned and walked out.I don’t know how many weeks the box

sat there,waiting patiently on my desk.But when I opened it again,I agreed to myself that I would try it out.Maybe once a month. To get used to it.Then I would decide.Because I wasn’t ready for my life tochange.Not yet. Not now.But I would always knowthat I had a choice.

Snails, Invention & GeneralHergan Flurgan Life changes

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




PHOTO OF THE WEEK






NATIONAL LIFE GROUP


org , and cowbird.com. YWP also publishes The Voice, a monthly digi-tal magazine with YWP’s best writ-ing, images and features. To learnmore, go to youngwrite rsproject.org or contact YWP at (802) 324-





to the prompts, Snails: Did you know snails can

swallow you whole?No? Tell your own whopper; and

Invention: You’ve invented the next big thing!; and

General. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.

MARK YOUR CALENDARS!

Vermont Writes Day is March 12! It’s

the day we stop everything to write for

just seven minutes! Find out more at

youngwritersproject.org/VTWrites15.

BY GUS THOMPSON


The Hergan Flurgan is the most ad-vanced gaming device known to animal,the next-gen gaming console for anymonkey around. It needs no opposablethumbs. That means any animal, except

those smelly humans, can play it.Listen to this satisfied customer: “I

bought this for my dog two weeks agoand he hasn’t gone out of his room since.”

This product will make any animal aMountain Dew-drinking, Tri Hard-gamerthat hasn’t taken a shower in a decade ...This console comes with games like Dogof Duty, Cat Mario, and, most popular,Monkeycraft.

(Fast voice talking) Warning: side ef -

fects may include blindness, loss of hear-ing, heart attack and death. If these thingshappen, call your vet immediately.

The Hergan Flurgan. Available now.

Vermont beavcoonBY RYAN PEPE


Did you know that the legendary bea-vcoon lurks in the high hills of Vermont?

Now you may be doubting me, but Itell you, it’s true!

Every third leap year, when the moonis full, the beavcoon shows itself to thoselucky enough to spy it. Its growl can

be heard bouncing off the green hills of

Vermont.The beavcoon stands at an impressive

three feet high and is a daunting sevenfeet long, including the tail. It has thehead of a raccoon, with the exception ofthe two front teeth of a beaver. Next tothose beaver teeth are razor-sharp fangs,capable of shredding a maple tree inseconds. ... Read the complete story at youngwritersproj-

ect.org/node/105037.

The tree brainBY EAMON DEFFNER

rade 7, Thetford Academy

Did you know that trees actually haverains? In the roots, a small brain forms.

Nobody has ever explored the insidef a living tree, so no one knows abouthem.

I noticed this yesterday as I stoppedo examine a tree’s roots. It was quite ane birch and had average size, but it hadome fleshy material sticking out of it. Iouched the fleshy material and it felt likebrain.

I quickly came here to write this downecause it may be a huge scientific dis-overy.

Their brains are not like humans’ecause they don’t need all the grayatter that controls the muscular/skeletal

ystem.All living things have brains.As proof, there’s a town in Vermont

alled Braintree.How did it get its name?

Although this ruins my own discovery,t must have been from somebody discov-ring the tree brain.

I wonder what tree brains are thinking?aybe they are plotting to destroy man-

ind as punishment for global warming...

BY ISABEL HALL


Life is always changing.You never know your next step.You never know what comes after this.You can’t predict tomorrow; you can’tpredict next year; you just can’t predict it.Life changes for the better.Life changes for the worse.In one day, your whole life plan canchange.Something good can happen.Something bad can happen.Life is unpredictable.Live in the moment, not in the future.

Never meltsBY AMARI’ CHASE

Grade 4, Tunbridge Central School

People love snow so much. I do too. Icreated snow that never melts...

Disappearing snowBY NATALIE MURPHY

Grade 3, Tunbridge Central School

One day a man bought my invention. Itwas the snow vacuum. It heated the snow,melted it and then made it evaporate.

He started out at his house sucking upall the snow. He was having so much funhe went to the town and he sucked upall the snow in town. When there was no

more snow, the people said, “Hurray!”and “thank you!”

Everyone wanted a snow vacuum.

THIS WEEK: SecondsThree seconds The game

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




PHOTO OF THE WEEK






MAIN STREET LANDING







week, we present responses to the prompt, Seconds.

Write about something that can happen in seconds.

Read more at youngwritersproject.org.

YWP NEWS


NEXT PROMPTS

Stardust. You’re exploring intergalactic space and come across a voyager sellingstardust. Write your conversation. Alternate: Regret. Is there something you wishyou had done, but now it’s too late? What is it and how do you deal with it? DueFeb. 13

Listen. Click on the audio link for this prompt on youngwritersproject.org. Whatdo the sounds evoke? Alternates: You. Someone wants to tell you something “be-cause you’re the only one who will understand.” What is the story? Who is tellingyou? How does it affect you?; or General writing. Due Feb. 20

THE VOICE

CHECK OUT YWP’S DIGITAL MAGAZINE EVERY MONTH!


for your FREE subscription!

Ticking, tickingBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


A blood red handon a bone white clock.Ticking,

ticking.A bullet sounds.It finds a homein ticking,tickingseconds.Sharpened knives fly through the air,practice for a greater foe.They land on the target.in mere ticking,ticking

seconds.The night black handlike a starless evekeeps time with the ticking seconds.Matching numbersshy away from the handthat marks the tickingseconds.Words are said,lives are lost,in ticking,

ticking seconds.Hearts are broken,fire is setin ticking,ticking seconds.Things that can not be redoneare lost to tickingseconds.They are the workersof death’s gentle hands,but seconds are perhaps the lesser known

between the two adversaries.You can count them,try to save them,but seconds will always win.They will capture all you love,and torture you,until the seconds move on.

BY FRANCES KAPLAN


Three seconds.Two words.One moment.Everything changed.“Me too.”

BY EMMA REA


Just a couple more left.The clock is counting down.I look up as sweat drips down my fore-head.It’s time to bring it

down by two.Need a 3 to win.I’m the only one with that skill.The coach calls a time-out.We all walk over.My mind blurs all of her words together.“Then get Emma the ball,” was all I couldmake out.

SLAM WITH YWP

THIRD THURSDAY | EVERY MONTH

FLETCHER FREE LIBRARY | BURLINGTON

THIS WEEK: ProposalOops The proposal

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015







VERMONT BUSINESS

R OUNDTABLE



Olivia Fewell, Essex High School






Proposal: Write about a marriage proposal that goes

terribly wrong. More at youngwritersproject.org.

BY CAMILLE CHENEY


Hello, my name’s Dan. I thought I wasin love with the perfect girl, but it turnsout I was wrong. Here’s how it playedout.

It was Nov. 3 and I decided I wanted to

propose to my girlfriend Anne. I wanted itto be perfect, so she would say yes. I hadorganized it all so that she would meetme next to the fountain in the plaza at 8o’clock.

First I would ask her to marry me anddoves would fly in the air. (I hired doves.)Then the fountain would make a beautifuldisplay shaped like a big heart. (I hireda plumber.) And for the big finale, shewould say yes and fireworks would go

off. Meanwhile in the bushes, I was goingto have my friend hide and tape the wholething. Everything was ready when I metAnne at the plaza.

“Hey beautiful, how’re you doing?”“I’m fine, but what was so important it

couldn’t wait till tomorrow?”“I have something important to ask

you,” I said.I got down on one knee and pressed

the button on my pocket so the doves andwater fountain would do their stuff in fiveseconds. Then I went for it!

“Will you marry me?”Right on cue the doves rose into the

air, and the fountain started to make afunny sound. Water squirted all over usand the moment was ruined.

“Actually, I was going to break up withyou tomorrow.”

“What? Why?”“Well, first of all,” she started. “You

snore really loudly. Also my friends don’t

like you. Plus my dad still wants to killyou for accidentally knocking me overthat bridge and almost drowning me inmy one-of-a-kind, $3,000 designer dress.”

Right then I heard a flapping noise andlooked around.

“What are you looking for?” she said.“Well, I thought I heard a flapping

sound and I was ... ughhh! What is this?”Something gooey had landed on my

arm and the side of my face. I looked

over to find there was glop on Anne too.“Anne, I figured out what the flappingsound was. I think Jeremy fed the dovesbefore they were let out.”

Anne went crazy after that! “Ughhh!I am covered in pigeon poop! This isall your fault! I’m never talking to youagain!”

That is how my Saturday went, and Ican tell you, I will never underestimatethe power of women’s voices again!

BY ELLE DIXON


It’s late morning and my husbandand I sit on our sofa drinking coffee. Inhis scarred hand, the result of being anelectrician for 30-plus years, he holds agreen book with the words “Joann and

Marcus” in gray print. In the middle ofthe front cover is a picture of us in our redconvertible Volkswagen Beetle, me in thepassenger seat in a pink bikini; my hair isbrown and my face is sun-kissed, clear ofwrinkles. I look so young. We must havebeen 25 and just out of college. We musthave been driving home from the beach.Marcus’s surf board is strapped to theback of the car ... Wind in our hair, smileson our faces.

I stare at the photo until Marcus inter-rupts by flipping the page. This one is apicture of our high school prom. He looksdashing in his suit and blue tie, smilingat the camera; I am next to him in a pinkdress. The next is us on graduation day.After that, it’s us saying goodbye beforewe part for different colleges. There areother pictures but there is one that bringsback so many memories.

The picture is of me standing in theemergency room with my hand over mymouth and tears pouring down my face. Itwas a hot summer day about three yearsafter I finished college. I had gotten abusiness degree and my job required meto travel alot.

I was walking through the airport togo to Paris when Marcus came runningthrough the crowd. He was sick and I hadtold him to stay home and rest. What didhe do? He ignored me and probably ran amile to where he could catch a bus to go

to the airport. He was red and covered insweat. Before I knew it, he was down onone knee and begging me to marry him.When I asked him why he didn’t wait toask me after my trip, he replied, “Thereare lots of attractive men in Paris.” Ilaughed, but before I could accept hisproposal, he fainted.

Fear rushed through me. Am I aboutto lose my husband-to-be? Thankfully,the airport security was able to get him

to the emergency room. He slowly wokeup and saw me standing over him. Thenhe did something remarkable. He pulledout the ring (again) and proposed (again).My hand went over my mouth and tearspoured down my face. I nodded andkissed him.

I look up from the picture and over atMarcus; I wonder if he’s thinking aboutthat time. He looks at me. “There are alotof attractive men in Paris.” I nod and kisshim.

NEXT PROMPTSChange. Write a story or poem that

includes the sentence, “That’s wheneverything changed.” Alternates: Lim-erick. Write a limerick: a poem of fivelines, the 1st, 2nd, and 5th lines rhyming,and the 3rd and 4th lines rhyming – anduse humor; or Child. Write a story fromthe perspective of a small child who isleft alone and could be either frightenedand confused by the situation or veryresourceful and determined. Due Feb. 6

THE VOICE

CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE!


f b i i !

THIS WEEK: DreamFalling Nightmares

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK


NEXT PROMPTS











to the prompts, Dream: Write about a recurring or

strange dream. Read more at youngwritersproject.

org, a safe, civil, online community of writers.

Kevin Huang, Burlington High School

Detective. Write a detective story about a librarianwho finds a mysterious package at her front door.Alternates: Penny. Tell the life story of a pennysince it was minted to the time you received it aschange; or Photo 6 (Write a story or poem basedon the photo, left). Due Jan. 30MORE GREAT STUDENT WRITING AT


BY DEREK CAMPBELL


dream that I am falling,eaping off a building or off a cliff.alling.he wind lashes against my skin.alling.

he clouds rolling past.alling.he cement about two miles away.alling.lmost there.alling.he ground inches away.alling. hit the groundnd wake up.

Force fieldsBY TAYLOR LOCKWOOD


Dreams are like force fields,keeping us from reality,even a short amount of time,calling us backinto the depths of our minds,

showing us the things we feel,the faces we see,what we want,what we need,but as our bodies rest,our minds never sleep,carrying us awayinto a wonderland of dreams.

BY LILIAN MACVEAGH


I woke up sweating. My stomach waschurning. My bed sheets were aboutto fall on the floor. I had just had a baddream.

In my dream I was myself, and

somehow some crook had gotten into ourhouse and up the stairs. He was at the topof the stairs when I awoke (not actually, just in my dream). He was going into mysister’s room so I got out of bed and triedto stop him. He turned around and triedto shoot me. The bullet hit me, but I wasinvincible....

I kept having that dream over and overagain. Once the intruder went into thebathroom, but otherwise my dream was

the same.After I had seen that dream enoughtimes, I began to stop him at the top of thestairs. This time, instead of trying to shootme, we wrestled and then he stabbed theveins in my wrist with a piece of glass;I was not invincible this time. It hurt alot. That is when I woke up. I went intomy parents’ bedroom. “I just had a baddream,” I said.

“You can stay here for the rest of thenight,” my mom told me. I climbed intobed next to my mom, and that is where Istayed the rest of the night.

I have not had a bad dream since then.Some bad dreams are sad, some are scary,and some are both.

But they are always terrible. My dreamwas scary. Dreams are supposed to havea meaning, but I don’t know what thatnightmare was supposed to mean.

It’s deadlyBY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


alling asleep is deadly.ut when you are in it, you never die.ou are always dying.our life falls apart

nd your worst fears come true.urder, death and sorrow

ll the sleeping hours.t’s better when you wake up often.f you don’t, you are trapped.laustrophobia in a small box.he world is closing in on you.ut this time, there is no sky to escape to,owhere to run.nclosed. Forever, in a room

hat is simply a figment

f your imagination,hough your sleep convinces youhat it is real.anic surrounds.riends die around you.ut you are strangled in the horrible

nfinities of dying.o escape, no life.

f you don’t give up,ou will never be free;ou will struggle for a bit,

ut you will give up.f you don’t, you will never be free.ver.ut you will never even be freefter the dream.t will be imprinted in your mind.orever.

THIS WEEK: Alone

E h k Y W i P j i l

Basement spaceThe light inside

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


YOU CAN READ



& T HE V OICE,

YWP’S MONTHLY

DIGITAL MAGAZINE






JANE’S TRUST






students selects the best writing and images for publi-

cation. This week, we present responses to the prompt,

Alone. What do you like to do when you have time to

yourself? More at youngwritersproject.org.

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

Brady Blow, Mount Mansfield Union High School

NEXT

PROMPT

Time. You are transported back in timeand are inhabiting the mind of someoneelse. What is the internal conversation?Alternates: Queasy. Put your characterin a situation that makes her/him queasy.What is the situation and how does thecharacter resolve it?; or Button. Pressingbuttons (in elevators, on gadgets, etc.) isusually harmless, but this time, somethingstrange happens. Due Jan. 23.

BY LILY PARKER


Alonein my basement –the only place I can truly get awaywhen I’m sad or scared or just need timeto think.

My space is in my basement,enough music to flood my ears,enough space to do what I please,quiet and peaceful,no brother to annoy me,no parents to yell,no dogs to bark.I am me.I clear the room,unfold the mats,stretch.

I am ready to go.Gymnastics is me,splits, handstands, cartwheels,again and againuntil all the pain and misery has left mymind.Nobody can see me make mistakes.I can be who I am inside.I am free.I am me.

BY LUCY WOOD


hen I am alone, think. turn on my favorite band,

Solitude,y escape.

he cold pain of reality is dulled;he music in my ears washes away thegonyaused by the facthat some people don’t want you.ll the help you could give

s lost,gone to waste.

ou say that you need themnd yet they say they don’t need youack,

ut this blow is somewhat lesshen you are alone –o one to contradict you,o one to inflict hurt,urt you know will soon comeut is put off for now.hese long hours by yourselfave taught you to look for the light that

guides you,ee through the fog surrounding it,et your mind disappear into the beat of

he music,et the taste of the chocolate you are eat-ngoat your tongue,ts creamy reassurance calming you.lose your eyes so you only see black,

he color of how you really feel.he black creeps into the room,

ts whispery fingers probing for an an-hor.he music is soft

nd yet you haven’t even touched theolume button.hese times when you are alonere the times that put you to the test.ven when your mind is filled with black,

hat small light inside your chest willhine throughf you only give it a chance.

Start with a bookBY HOLLY KWIATKOWSKI


When I am alone,I read a book.I go outside.I try to cook.

I play with my dog.I daydream.I walk around in the woods.I listen to music very loud.I write in a notebook.I draw.These are the things that make me, me.

BackpackingBY ADDIE HANNAN


When I am backpacking I am alone andwith others at the same time.There are others nearby, but I mostlyinteract with myself.While hiking, it seems like there are twoof me.I talk to myself in my head.

I remember my past.I dream of my future.At camp, I am more social.I love meeting all of the other hikers.I learn about their cool, new gear.The mountains have a certain sense ofsecurity.I feel confident while hiking.Most of my worries float away with thebreeze.I see things from a bird’s eye view.My life. The landscape. Imagination.Reality. Backpacking. Together. Alone.

The blue door What’s behind it?THIS WEEK: Door

E h k Y W it P j t i l

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


BY SYLVAN WILLIAMS


It begins a normal day. Like usual.Walking back from school with my mea-ger helping of friends that I’ve had sinceelementary school. Three have alreadyleft, their houses being closer to the

center of town. It’s just me and my friend,Jagger, and we’re walking together, mepaying utterly no attention at all, and he,eyes always watching, stops, backs upand calls my name.

“Hey, Hawke. Do you remember thisdoor?” he says, pointing to a blue doorthat I had definitely not noticed before,and if this is new to Jagger, this is new tome, too.

“Nope,” I reply. “Maybe we should

check it out.”“I don’t know, man,” Jag says cau-tiously. “There could be anything behindthere.”

“Okay. I’ll knock,” I say, reaching forthe door. I rap twice, hard and meaning-ful. Silence. I peek in, and instead of see-ing anything, I see nothing. Or more of ablinding, white light.

“Augh!” I yell, but the light seems tobe dragging us into it. Jag had the wits toclose his eyes at first, and so he can see

fine, but the light burns into my eyes, andrefuses me the privilege to close them.Jag is trying to talk to me, but I can’t hearhim. His mouth is moving, but to me, nowords are coming out. Then the light allof a sudden stops dragging and I close myeyes.

I wake up to a cool place, but I can’tsee. Has my curiosity and stupidity costme my eyesight? It must be so, becauseI can hear Jag now. There’s also a kind,

female voice saying something, but afterscreaming at Jag that I can’t see anything,I focus on his words. They are warm andsoothing. Telling me we’ll make it. Hesays that it’s alright. He can’t feel. Hesays it’s like he’s floating. The femalevoice yells at us, and we are forced tolisten.

“You have been disabled for ourpurposes,” she says. “You will go to asecluded world, where there are otherpeople like you, and we will run tests onyou for a new and bright future for theworld. You will change history. Disabledpeople will be able to see, hear, feel andtouch just like normal persons. You havecompleted our set, and the major sensesand disabilities have been covered.”

I start to interrupt, but she cuts me off.“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a

choice in this matter.”

BY EMMA REA


I looked down at my shoes; I was justnow noticing how worn down they were.

I wasn’t staring at the ground for longwhen something caught my eye. I stoppedwhat I was doing and looked up.

There was a large blue door in thewall. Why was there a bright blue door inthe old blank wall? This wasn’t exactly anew room, but this door definitely seemednew.

I stared at it for a moment makingsure I wasn’t dreaming. I turned aroundto look at all my surroundings. I knewwhere I was, but this door had never beenhere before. Well, at least I don’t think itwas; no, I know it wasn’t.

I knew that it would be a bad ideato get up and open the door. Who goesinside a door that you’re not quite sureyou’ve even seen before?

I couldn’t stop myself. It was like Iwas possessed. I knew I was walking butit didn’t feel like it. I picked my hand upand touched the door knob. I turned itever so lightly and it creaked open ... Myhand dropped to my side and I stood theremotionless.

I stared through the door, it was dark

and I wasn’t sure what was on the otherside. I looked around for people, but noone was there. So, I stepped inside theroom. I stood at the doorway and lookedaround.

“Hello?” I shouted into the dark room.Stepping out of the doorway, I looked

for a light switch, moving further intothe room, and as soon as I did, the doorslammed shut. I whipped around at thesound of it. I jumped toward the door and

twisted the door knob. It was locked!There was no light and the room was

dark. I frantically dug out my phone. Ittook a second to figure out that there wasno signal. I turned on the flashlight onmy phone, looked at the doorknob anddecided there was no way out.

I shone the light around the room,trying to make out what was in there.From what I could see, there was only anold, metal framed, empty bed, with white

sheets, a window with bars on it, and asink and toilet in the corner.I walked to a different place in the

room, keeping my back to the wall thewhole time, but when I did, it just madeit worse.

Nothing felt real, but everything feltalive...

(Read the complete story at youngwritersproj-

ect.org/node/103603.)

PHOTO OF THE WEEK






JANE’S TRUST








prompt, Door: What’s behind the mysterious blue

door? Read more at youngwritersproject.org.

Emma Parizo, Essex High School

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM ALL OF US AT YOUNG WRITERS PROJECT!

WE’LL BE BACK IN THIS SPACE WITH MORE GREAT WRITING ON JAN. 6.

WinterB K C

THIS WEEK: Lyrics, Winter & Photo 4

Each week Young Writers Project receives several

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




PHOTO OF THE WEEK






AMY E. TARRANT

FOUNDATION



BY KERRICK CAVANAUGH


I once thought of the winteras something to loathe.The frigid, irritating, frozen vaporthat numbs to the touch.I stumble on the obnoxious ice that

freezes upon my doorstep,and the unwanted work brought by thepiled snow in my driveway.It all changed one day when I uncovereda giftmy second-grade neighbor left on thehood of my car.A small snowman,about the size of my hand.As I gazed upon this little snow creature,I had a new feeling I had never experi-

enced before.The appreciation for winter sproutedwithin me.I soon realized that winter is morethan torture and hard work.There is more to winter than meets theeye.On the outside, winter is a cold excuse fora beach.On the inside, snow is another reason tolove the great outdoors,

all of its beauties.Snow is more than frozen atmosphere;it is what makes the winter feel not ascold as it really is.It is what keeps kids playing,and not inside,attached to their devices.Snow is not only for falling,it is for creative sculpture,snow angels,and the famous snowman.

When you appreciate winter,the worst part is,it ends.No matter what,winter will come again,and it will bringthe joy of one thousand gifts.When you uncover the true meaning ofwinter,you realizethat every season is the same.

They all bring their own gifts to theworld.Isn’t that what makes the world a morecolorful place?






Lyrics: Sprout a piece from a favorite song; Winter

Tales; and Photo 4. More at youngwritersproject.org .

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

Ian Ballou, Essex High School

Photo 4. Casey Mulrow, Essex High School

My mindBY WILLA LANE


Watching, waiting, unknowing. I sit inWorlds that don’t understand, don’t

Know. They can’t see into my minD. My mind. My mind, spiraling wIth words. My mind, empty andComplex, seeing everything iN shades of orange and bluE. My mind, like a sponge,Soaking up everything aNd then some. My minD, innocent and pure.My mind, electrifiedAnd weightless. M

Y mind, so full ofDreams, of hopEs and ideas,My mind, barRen. My miNd, star flOating. MY mind,SeekinG warMth, l

Ove.

Sorry. Write a story or poem thatincorporates the sentence, “I’m sorry …I’m so sorry.” Alternate: Cyborg. Writea story about a cyborg (part human,part machine). How did it become thatway? How does it use its powers? Can

it integrate into the world of humans orthe world of machines or is it always anoutsider? Due Dec. 19

Statue. You’re walking through anempty park and pass a statue. To yoursurprise, the statue strikes up a conversa-tion with you. Tell the story of the statueand what it says. Alternates: Dark. Are you scared of the dark? Why?; orHouston. You are an astronaut. Describea moment floating in space. Due Jan. 9

NEXT PROMPTS

Let it be

BY LUCY WOOD Grade 8, U-32 Middle School

The world is a cruel place.Is this the real life?Or just a fantasy?Caught in a landslide.No escape from reality.Or can we leave this world?Running, far, far awayTake these broken wings and

learn to flyaway from the troubleson the ground.All your lifeyou were only waiting for this moment toarise;you were only waiting for this moment tobe free.She is scared,afraid to lose control,and caught up in this world,

her wings beat the air,lofty currents taking her to a better place.She fliesupupupinto the night sky,tracing her way through the constella-tions,weaving in and out of the Milky Way.

Now she’s back in the atmospherewith drops of Jupiter in her hair,and did she find herself out there?The world she returned to is the same.Wars, blood, human nature.But she knowswhen the brokenhearted peopleliving in the world agree,

there will be an answer.Let it be.

This poem was inspired by the follow-

ing songs: “Drops of Jupiter” by Train,“Let it Be” by the Beatles, “Across the

Universe” by the Beatles, “Blackbird”by the Beatles, “Bohemian Rhapsody”

by Queen, and “Come with Me Now” byKongos.

THIS WEEK: Winter TalesEach week, Young Writers Project receives several

The hillBY ELEANOR BRAUN

AloneBY FRANCES KAPLAN

Grade 8 U 32 Middle School

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




YWP is supported by this newspaper and foundations, businesses andindividuals who recognize the powerand value of writing. If you wouldlike to contribute, please go to young-writersproject.org/support , or mailyour donation to YWP, 12 North St.,

Suite 8, Burlington, VT 05401.




, g j


and New Hampshire. This week, we present local

pieces that were selected for Winter Tales to be per-

formed by the Vermont Stage Company at FlynnSpace

in Burlington, Dec.10-14. For more info, go to vt-

stage.org/winter-tales; or youngwritersproject.org.

Young Writers Project is anindependent nonprofit that engagesstudents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites, young-writersproject.org , vpr.net , vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com. YWP also

publishes The Voice, a monthly digitalmagazine with YWP’s best writing,images and features. To learn more, goto youngwritersproject.org or contactYWP at (802) 324-9537.

BY ELEANOR BRAUN


Sharp glint off snowburns eyes.Earrings, freezing cold.Wind, howling,numbs ears.

And yet – ‘tis glorious pain,exhilarating,powerful pain!At the top of the hill,zipping to the bottom.Gloves too thin.Fingers stiffen.Boots too small,feet crammed,toes cold.And yet – ‘tis glorious pain,

exhilarating,powerful pain!At the top of the hill,zipping to the bottom.


QuietJust me and the treesSound silenced by a blanket of whiteI whisperTell the world my secretsNo one hears

I am alone

NEXT PROMPTS

100 Miles. You get lost and end up walking 100 miles through thick, bug-infestedwoods. When it’s finally over, you can’t believe what’s waiting for you in a clearingat the edge of the forest … Alternates: Online. Somehow you’ve fallen into the Webpage you’ve been browsing. Where are you? What’s happening?; or General writing in any genre. Due Dec. 12

WinterBY KAILA SKEET BROWNING

Grade 9, The Sharon Academy

Winter is not meticulous.It kisses every inch of bare skin itssnow fox flurries come across,the pink petals of noses, the red riddlesof earsopening up to the sound of thewind’s unraveling silk.Winter is a map of silver,each snowflake its owndemographic doorway to perfection,

a shock of crystal detailsprinkled in my sister’s infinite hair.Winter is a gift to the blindfor even they can feelthe morning lightbouncing off every blade of frost andpressing against the perpetual hoods oftheir eyelids.Winter is a unicorn of silence,an egret’s wingspan,a blue-white planet created

to bring rings of fresh stars and constella-tions of airinto our thirsty lungs.Pull on your coat, your gloves and yourhat.Winter is an angel of snow waiting to becreated.

I could, but I won’tBY EMILY WEATHERILL


I could sleep here, among the trees.I could lie here, close my eyes, and just

breathe.I could sleep here, staring up at the snow;But I won’t; I just wanted you to know.I can breathe here, in this fresh tingly air.I can wonder here, why life is not fair.I can breathe here, or maybe I’ll not;But I won’t; don’t worry, it was only athought.I could sing here, let sound free from myheart.I could dance here, and stop playing my

part.I could sing here, let the world hear mylove;But I won’t; my voice is all yours, mydove.I could hope here, where time seems tostop.I could dream here, on flakes the treesseem to drop.I could hope here, where my face meetsthe day;

But I won’t; because you think it’s betterthat way.I could love here, crystals hanging likehearts.I could live here, icicles like darts.I could love here, and you tell me no;But I won’t; (I like the idea, though).We could age here, under this cold.We could age here, stay until we growold.We could age here, where ice freezes our

sleep;But we won’t; the mountains are just toodeep.I could love you, with your eyes of blackcoal.I could love you, with your ice-crossedsoul.I could love you, with your lashes offrost;But I won’t. With the red rose, I knowthat you I have lost.

WINTER TALESSCHEDULE OF YWP WRITERS

Wednesday, Dec. 10 @ 7:30 p.m.Jadyn JacobsEmily Weatherill

Thursday, Dec. 11 @ 7:30 p.m.Haley NoelSophia St. John-Lockridge

Friday, Dec. 12 @ 7:30 p.m.Patrick Herrin

Milo Wilcox

Saturday, Dec. 13 @ 2 p.m.Kaila Skeet BrowningSally Matson

Saturday, Dec. 13 @ 7:30 p.m.Samuel BoudreauSofia Spano

Sunday, Dec. 14 @ 2 p.m.Noah Sanderson

Holly Ray Sherrer

Sunday Dec. 14 @ 6 p.m.Frances KaplanEleanor Braun

(Presented by Vermont Stage Company

at FlynnSpace in Burlington. For more

information and tickets, go to vtstage.

org/winter-tales.)

THIS WEEK: Letter & General


ThanksBY LUCYWOOD

Would you notice?BY EMMAREA

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




PHOTO OF THE WEEK


NEXT PROMPTS





THE BAY AND PAUL FOUNDATIONS







week, we present responses to the prompts, Letter:

Write a letter to someone to say thanks; and General

writing. Read more at youngwritersproject.org .

BY LUCY WOOD


TO JM AND JWM,

You guys are amazing.I’m not going to lie; times are tough

these days.People are drifting away and slip-

ping out of our control, their actions justbeyond our reach.

But you have managed to keep yourchin up and face forward.

I don’t want to just say a bunch ofpopular girl, clichéd, false sentiments, butyou have no idea of the significance youhave in my life.

Remember the time I wore a cape toschool? You laughed, but so did I.

You two just accepted it and moved

on. Just as you’ve accepted me. Mycraziness, sometimes obnoxiousness, mycapes, you’ve just taken it all in.

Recognized me for who I am, not someBarbie clone.

Years from now we will look back onthese times, and the memories will slowlyfade from our minds.

But somewhere, deep in the innerworkings of my heart, I will rememberyou. I mean, how could I forget?

Thank you for everything.

Smugglers’ Notch, Vermont. Kevin Huang, Burlington High School

Invention. You’ve just invented thenext big thing! Pitch it to the head ofthe most influential company you know.

What is it and what does it do? Alter-nates: 15, 10, 5. Create a short dialogueof three characters. The first can onlyspeak 15 words, the second 10, and thethird just five words; or Author. Write inthe style of your favorite author or poet.Include the writer’s name and a favoritequote, if you like. Due Dec. 5

100 Miles. You get lost and endup walking 100 miles through thick,

bug-infested woods. When it’s finallyover, you can’t believe what’s waitingfor you in a clearing at the edge of theforest … Alternates: Online. Somehowyou’ve fallen into the Web page you’vebeen browsing. Where are you? What’shappening?; or General writing in anygenre. Due Dec. 12

BY EMMA REA


I knew she was there. I knew hername. I knew who she was.

When she talked her voice wouldshake, and she would get real quiet. Shewas afraid to talk to people, to have an

opinion, much like me. Except that therewas a difference between the two of us.

Yes, I have more friends and talk tomore people, but I really didn’t under-stand her. I would try to engage her by

just talking to her myself, by includingher in what my friends and I do, but allshe did was stay quiet.

She was so shy that not many peopleknew what she was saying, if she waseven at school that day, if she was in aclass with you, and that’s what made methe most empathetic; she was so quiet thatif she wasn’t there, no one would evennotice. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to beinvisible, or if she was just quiet. Shecouldn’t speak up and I felt horrible.

I looked for her in the hallway everyday, but oddly I never really saw her. Iknew she was there, I knew her name,and I knew who she was, but I realizedI wouldn’t even know if she was gone,and at that moment, I knew that had to

change before she not only just tried to beinvisible, but before she actually becameinvisible.

Dear GrandpaBY CASEY MACVEAGH


It’s really great to have you as agrandparent. You are really kind and

funny, but you also can cheer me up.Whenever I see you, I imagine allthose good times I have had with you inIndiana.

When we get to the airport and you’rethere waiting, we can hardly stop our-selves from running down the passage-way. It’s always a really nice sight whenyou are there waiting to take us to have anamazing time...

You and Grandmama are really spe-cial to me, and when we are in Indiana, it

always helps me remember that.I have some friends who have lost

their grandparents, but you’re still hereand I am grateful. You help make my lifea good one.

THIS WEEK: Angel Little girlBY NIKOLEGARAND

The dolphinBY LUCYWOOD


8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




PHOTO OF THE WEEK




BY NIKOLE GARAND

Grade 9, Chelsea Public School

I sit on the park bench, sipping mywarm cup of coffee, enjoying the morningcool and dew. I pull out my book, “TheHelp.” I could read this book forever.

I let out a sigh as I think about school

and my professors, thinking about quit-ting. I see someone’s shadow pass overand stop in front of me, interrupting mysun time. I look up at the stranger, to seea little girl looking at me. I sweetly ask,“Can I help you, sweetheart?”

She smiles and nods.I ask her again, “What do you need,

honey? Where are your parents?’She points to my heart, lightly touch-

ing my cheek. I suddenly feel like I’m

being whipped off the bench and ontoanother one.I look around, wondering what hap-

pened, and I see myself across the side-walk, on a bench next to a young man,who is handing me flowers. I look at thelittle girl and she points back to my otherself.

When I look back, I catch that myother self and the man are wearing match-ing wedding bands.

Then once again I am whipped into

another seat. I see myself teaching highschool students, like I’ve always wantedto do. I see the little girl smiling at me,and my other self picks her up saying,“Where have you been, sweetheart?”

She says, “Playing, Mommy.” Sheleans out and touches my cheek again,and I’m whipped back into reality, real-izing my little girl in the future, showedme my future, showed me my life.

I look at my watch and realize I’m

going to be late for my university classes;I pick up my books and jog back tocampus.

I catch the little girl waving to me, andthen she disappears. I jog faster, knowingI need to finish school for my little girl,for my guardian angel.

BY LUCY WOOD


It is the middle of August, at the beach,hat I meet my guardian.

My mom slows the car to a stop in theusty parking lot. The beach grass swaysack and forth, encircling us.

I climb out of the car, my legs stiffrom the long ride.

I run across the sand, my feet makinghispery imprints on the surface.I take off my shoes and leave them

ext to a pile of driftwood. The sand be-ow me gradually gets more and more wets I close in on the curling waves.

The water licks at my feet, and thendertow tugs at my toes as if to say

“Come, come, come.”

I stand firm against its pull and dig myeet into the sand. I look across the silveraps of the waves and take a big breath ofhe salty air that surrounds me.

I see motor boats in the distance, butar enough away that I can’t really hearhem. I see the sun sinking closer andloser to the blue horizon, its golden rayseaching out, tickling the water, settlingn our skin.

A gentle breeze picks up, pushingisps of hair across my face.

As my senses absorb all the delicacies,decide that California is the place to be.

On the corner of my field of vision, Iee a shiny creature flip above the waves.turn my head toward the place I have

ast seen the creature and wait for it toesurface.

Then I see it. A beautiful dolphin isgliding in and out of the water, one withhe waves.

The dolphin weaves through the water,

oming closer and closer to where I stand.I run into the water, diving in. I swim

ut to where I can’t stand anymore andearch for it in the waves.

All of a sudden, the dolphin pops upext to me and nudges me with her nose.grab her fin, and she pulls me across theay, her tail beating against the ocean.

She pulls me into the shallowest parthe can and releases me. I give her aatery hug, and she takes off.Her body is silhouetted against the set-

ing sun. I exit the water, and in response,he leaps out of the water. She is a part ofe. She is my guardian.





CHAMPLAIN INVESTMENT PARTNERS

g j





Angel: Write about the first time you meet your

guardian angel. More at youngwritersproject.org

.

Danilo Salgado, Essex High School

Sent from heavenBY THERRAN ADAMS

Grade 9, Harwood Union High School

She’s my guardian angel,looking out for me.I owe her my life;she’s always there for me,looking out for me.I feel I’m not good enough.She’s always there for me.

I feel she deserves better.I feel I’m not good enough.

She’s promised she won’t leave.I feel she deserves better.She insists there’s no one better than me.She’s promised she won’t leave.My angel sent from heaven,she insists there’s no one better than me.With a smile on her face,my angel sent from heaven,I owe her my life.With a smile on her face,she’s my guardian angel.

NEXT PROMPTS

Invention. You’ve just invented the nextbig thing! Pitch it to the head of the mostinfluential company you know. What isit and what does it do? Alternates: 15,10, 5. Create a short dialogue of threecharacters. The first can only speak 15words, the second 10, and the third justfive words; or Author. Write in the styleof your favorite author or poet. Includethe writer’s name and a favorite quote, ifyou like. Due Dec. 5

THIS WEEK: Photo 3 & Room


Dream roomsFrom Tunbridge Central School, Grade 4

Eyes of the trainBY LUCY WOOD

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




Photo 5. Library of Congress

NEXT PROMPTS





MGN Family Foundation


g j


and New Hampshire. This week, we present respons-

es to the prompts, Photo 3 & Room: Redesign your

room with no limits. Read more at youngwritersproj-

ect.org, a safe, civil, online community of writers.

PHOTO 3 PROMPT

Photo 3. Chelsea Somerset, Essex High School



Snails. Did you know snails can swal-

low you whole? Or thatthe Loch Ness Monsterand Lake Champlain’sChamp are cousins?Tell a ridiculous whop-per but be persuasiveenough that someone just might believe you. Alternates: Proposal. Write about a wedding proposal that goesterribly wrong; or Photo 5 (above). DueNov. 28

g

JESSICA DENSMORE: If I could redesignmy room any way I wanted I would havefive tie stalls and five box stalls. The stallsall together would be 300 feet long and40 feet wide... There would be padlocksand a special area for Wyatt (my horse).

DAKOTA FLESCH: It would be a Red Soxtheme, with a Red Sox bed and dresser,Red Sox wallpaper with a Red Sox fridgeand a Red Sox hat and uniform. Red Soxeverything. The wallpaper would haveevery Red Sox player.

BROOKE JONES: I would have all types ofneon words that describe me: music, love,family, friends and country girl on theceiling.

ELI FERRO: My bedroom would be insidea sea plane; my sea plane would be or-ange, red and blue and have a big propel-ler so I could fly around the world.

TAYLOR WEST: If I had a room theme, itwould be the jungle. My walls would becovered in vines. My desk would be atiger. My bureau would be a barrel of realmonkeys. My bed would be in a cave.

PARKER BOGARDUS: I would have a four-wheeler and dirt bike theme. I would haveremote control cars in a glass case andposters of four-wheelers.

SHANNON HADLOCK: I would design itlike a farm. My bed would be made outof corn stalks, the pillows would be haybales and the blankets would be potatosacks. In my closet, cows would be stick-

ing out.

MATHIAS WHITNEY: My room wouldprobably be the biggest because I wouldhave a big video game room, a demolitionderby arena, laser tag, and a big monstertruck arena.


As I board the trainI see so many storiesin so many eyes:the man with the hollow eyes, greasy hair,and a strange scent –

he shuffles up the steps and slumps in hisseat;the teenage girl with the tired eyes holdsher toddler’s sweaty hand,her boyfriend gabbing loudly into hisphone as she comforts their crying child;the old woman whose bright, blue eyeshave seen many hardships, yet radiatekindness –she smiles at me and nods her head to therhythm of the train.

This is not just a whirring machine,it is a silent storyteller.

Train to the futureBY FRANCES KAPLAN


I don’t want to go, but Mom says wehave to. I hold my tears back as I walkacross the platform toward the imposingtrain waiting to carry us away.

I have to pull Will by his little hand tomake sure he doesn’t run back home toour family, and death.

I let go of him with one hand as I reachup to swat away a disobedient tear thatescapes from the prison of my right eye.

The walk to the train from our houseonly takes 10 minutes but it feels like aneternity.

As we step onto the train Will com-pletely loses it. He starts flailing hisminiature arms and legs, trying to run.Trying to run all the way back into thelife we will never again have, back to ourparents, to our happy little house on thehill.

Even if he got away he wouldn’t getthere; no one could ever get there again.They made sure of that.

“The children must leave,” they said.

“Everyone else will die.” Them in theirmasks, they held their guns with suchpride, like killing was a good thing, likethey were helping. They weren’t.

As the train pulls out of the station,I look out the window at my childhoodhome. All I can see are the tracks.

Penny wishBY JACK FANNON


He’s standing on the bridge tracks, thebreeze whistling through the trees. Hestands still as if waiting for something. Aleaf falls next to him onto the tracks, buthis eyes don’t stray from the horizon.

He sees a train speeding toward him.

Time seems to slow for him and yet hecan’t move; he is frozen, staring into theheadlight quickly approaching. The deepwhistle of the train brings him back toreality. He looks below him into the deepchurning river and back up at the nowscarily close train. He seems to hesitatebefore jumping, glancing back at thetrain. He stares into Cyclops and jumps.

The train passes over the now emptyriver. A crushed penny falls into the wa-ter, a final wish.

THIS WEEK: Leaf & Lie


YWP NEWS & EVENTS

CELEBRATION OF WRITING

The dreamBY JESSE COLNES

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




PHOTO OF THE WEEK


NEXT PROMPTS





LANGWATER FAMILY FOUNDATION




New Hampshire. This week, we present responses to

the prompts, Leaf: Write from the perspective of one

leaf on a large, colorful maple tree; and Lie: Use the

line: “You don’t have to lie...”. Read more at young-

writersproject.org .

Emily Cunningham-Firkey, Essex High School


AND RELEASE OF ANTHOLOGY 6

SATURDAY, NOV. 8

9:30 A.M. – 5 P.M.

WRITING WORKSHOPS

MILLENNIAL WRITERS ON STAGE

RECEPTION TO HONOR PUBLISHED

WRITERS & PHOTOGRAPHERS

VERMONT COLLEGE OF FINE ARTS

36 COLLEGE STREET

MONTPELIER

Register for workshops todayat youngwritersproject.org! It’s FREE!

Pluto. NASA writes an apologyletter to Pluto for demoting it fromplanet status. Who receives the letterand what’s the reaction? Alternates: Alone. What do you love to dowhen you have time by yourself? orDream. Write about a dream that

keeps recurring. What does it mean?Or write about the strangest dreamyou’ve ever had. Due Nov. 14

Reporter. You are a new reporter,excited to be assigned to your firstbig story, but everything seems toconspire against you (e.g., traffic

jams, torrential rain, wrong informa-tion, police barricades, people whorefuse to be interviewed.) Somehowyou manage to get the story, make

the deadline and win the editor’s ap-proval. What’s the story and how doyou pull it off? Alternates: Seconds.Describe something that happenedin mere seconds, something bigor small; or Famous. You findout someone you know is famous.Describe the person, and why s/he isfamous. How does this affect you?Due Nov. 21

THE VOICE

CHECK OUT THE OCTOBER ISSUE OF

YWP’S MONTHLY DIGITAL MAGAZINE

Go to thevoice.youngwritersproject.org

Enjoy! And get your free subscription!


I am falling again, always falling; Imean, seriously, you think there could besome variety.

Shapes swirl around me. I can nevermake them out, just blurry shapes. But

they speak to me. The shapes wail as if ina chant, “ you don’t have to lie.”

I have no idea what it means, maybe awarning, but I do know what comes next.

Against my will I look down. Myhands are bloody, red. Somehow I know itis the blood of innocents.

Despite this happening before, the sightof blood makes my stomach turn.

Then I hit bottom. Stones scrape myhands as I try to grab on to something. Iclose my eyes, expecting to wake up as Iusually do, after hitting bottom. After all,this is just a dream.

However, I keep tumbling, slowly roll-ing to a stop.

I manage, with some difficulty to standup, but immediately find myself fallingbackwards.

For there, in front of me is a ... well, Idon’t really know what it is. Its eyes glowred and emanate a sort of black hopeless-ness. Horns curve up from it head, but the

most disturbing is the rest of its body. It isthe human body of an old man.

“It’s just a dream,” I mutter to myself.“Just a dream.”

Then it speaks.“It’s a lie,” the thing hisses.“W-what?” I stammer.“Your world is a lie; your world is the

dream.”“You don’t have to lie, I know this is

the dream, it has to be!” I yell-whimper.

“Really let’s find out. If you die in adream, you wake up in reality and all iswell, but if you die in reality, you die, nowaking up,” thunders the creature.

Rivers of blood begin to flow towardme from all directions. “It’s just a dream,”I mutter. “My world isn’t a lie.”

The blood swirls around me; it isalready up to my chin. This has to be adream. Then I am under and choking onblood. “This is just a dream,” I think. “I’llwake up.”

I never do, though. I never wake up. Itwas a lie. The life of a leaf

BY FRANNI HOAG

Grade 11, Oxbow High School

I was born in the spring, in the cool, buthopeful, bright air.The world had been “reborn.”Then, through the summer, I grew andexpanded into a fan of green.

The world grew and expanded too.Now I see those like me tumble and swirlto the ground in a vibrant array of red and yellow and orange and brown.Their beautiful corpses litter the earthbeneath me.And with every gust of wind,every shower of rain,I fear that I will be next to join them.It is fall, and the world is falling asleep.

THIS WEEK: Lie


h d d b i i f d V

YWP NEWS & EVENTS

C W

Aggressor, victim,decider

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK


NEXT PROMPTS





MAIN STREET LANDING





students selects the best writing and images for pub-

lication. This week, we present the prompt, Lie: Use

the line,’You don’t have to lie; I know it was you’ in a

poem or story. Read more at youngwritersproject.org.



SATURDAY, NOV. 8

9:30 A.M. – 5 P.M.

FREE WRITING WORKSHOPS

MILLENNIAL WRITERS ON STAGE

RECEPTION TO HONOR PUBLISHED

WRITERS & PHOTOGRAPHERS


36 COLLEGE STREET

MONTPELIER

Register for workshops todayat youngwritersproject.org! It’s FREE!

THE VOICE

CHECK OUT THE OCTOBER ISSUE OF

YWP’S MONTHLY DIGITAL MAGAZINE!

Go to thevoice.youngwritersproject.org

Read and get your free subscription!

Door. You’re walking along whenyou spot a large blue door in the wall of

a building that you pass every day – andyou’re sure the door wasn’t there yester-

day. Open it! Where does it lead?

Alternates: Season. Write about your

happiest memory of a holiday season; or

Mythical. Invent a mythical creature and

tell us about it. What does it look like?

What does it do all day? Good or bad

temper? Is it a fan of peanut butter and

jelly sandwiches? Due Nov. 7

Honk! Festival of Activist Street Bands, Boston, Oct. 11. YWP’s Sophia Cannizzaro of West Glover took this photo

and also participated as part of the Bread and Puppet brass band.

BY SYLVIE WILLIAMS


“You don’t have to lie; I know it wasyou,”said Victim in the blood-stained khakis.

“You don’t have to lie; I know it wasyou,”said Decider in the deep blue suit.He was swinging his bludgeon and walk-ing down the street,not expecting excitement thatnight.He rounded the corner, and took in theview.With Victim on his side on the sidewalk,blood was streaming down his wrinkled,

dirty pants,and he was moaning to the empty moon.Aggressor was leaning against the wall,and didn’t run when he looked on theshocked Decider who stopped swinginghis bludgeon to see what there was to do.“I was sleeping,” said Aggressor with acool, even tone.“I didn’t know what to do. He was walk-ing down the street,so tempting a shot, like a wandering deer,

this man.”Victim turned over and lay his hand onthe footof the calm, cool Aggressor.“You don’t have to lie; I know it wasyou,”he said with a weak, difficult smile.

Aggressor turned with a start to the manand said,“I never lie, I am proud of my work,”and turned back to the waiting Decider.

“You don’t have to lie; I know it wasyou,”Decider said, backing away.“We can go straight to jail;don’t mess with the court.We can make this easy, I say.”Decider made a move to cuff the Aggres-sor,but the Aggressor twisted away.He pulled out his gun and shot at Decider,two already gonenot even in the span of a day.“You don’t have to lie; I know it wasyou,”said the moon and the stars together.Aggressor smiled,his ever so sly smile,and wished the sky good day.And as the night faded away,the sun bled up in the sky.

(Continued next column)

“I never lie,I’m proud of what I do,”the Aggressor said to the dying moon.“The Decider didn’t decide last night,”grieved the stars fading into the sky.And the two men were left,Decider and Victim, on the side of thestreet,as concrete turned to red,

and they bled and they bled and theybled,‘till their skin was as white as the bonethat showed throughunderneath their blood-red shirts.

(This piece was also featured in the October

issue of The Voice, YWP’s digital magazine.)

THIS WEEK: Haunted



YWP EVENTS


Spine-chillingBY CAMILLE CHENEY


8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015




& YWP’S NEW DIGITAL MAGAZINE

THE VOICE!



North St., Suite 8, Burlington, VT

05401.


JANE’S TRUST




to the prompt, Haunted: Your dog runs into a creepy,

abandoned house. What happens? Read more at

youngwritersproject.org, and YWP’s new digital

magazine, The Voice.

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

Derek Pham, Essex High School



NEXT PROMPTS

Winter Tales. Tell a story about your experienceof winter in short descriptive poetry or prose. Noclichés, please. The best will be selected for presen-tation by the Vermont Stage Company at its annualWinter Tales production at FlynnSpace in Burling-ton in December. Alternates: Lyrics. Find a linefrom a favorite song that inspires you/ excites you/makes you feel good, and use it to sprout a poem,song or story; or Photo 4 (right). Due Oct. 31



SATURDAY, NOV. 8

9:30 A.M. – 5 P.M.


36 COLLEGE STREET

MONTPELIER

Don’t miss this event! It’s FREE!

Register at youngwritersproject.org


After you see your dog bolt throughthe door of the creepy, abandoned house,you grab a flashlight and your dog’s leashand run toward the house before you canchange your mind.

You hear some shuffling, and a chillgoes up your spine as you enter the house.

You feel like someone is watching you.You twirl around to see a pair of eyesshining over a haystack, dark glowingeyes.

You shut your flashlight off and backup slowly, trying not to disturb whateverwas connected to the pair of eyes.

As you’re backing up, you hit the door.You open it and run to the other side ofthe road.

You hear a howling, which remindsyou of the coyotes in the area.

“Did I just see a coyote?” It comes outas a squeak.

As you are trying to calm down, youhear a door screech open. You look overat the barn to see the two glowing eyes

oating toward you.You fight the urge to run, knowing it

will catch you. It is about 20 feet fromyou, 15 feet, 10 feet. It stops; you hold

your breath.All of a sudden it jumps; you scream

and run as fast as you can back to yourhouse. You look back and you see itcatching up to you; it will be on you inseven seconds, six, five, four, three, two... It jumps again, but it gets you this time.You prepare to get bitten, but instead ofbiting you, it licks you. You turn your

ashlight back on and shine it in its face.“Sam!” You see your dog on top of you

and hug him.You put the leash on him and take himback home, laughing at yourself for think-ing your dog was a coyote.

You open the door to your house, andyour mother starts asking you questions.

“Where have you been; what have youbeen doing?”

“I’m fine, Mom. I just took Sam outfor a walk ...”

“Okay, sweetie, well, go up to bed.”“Okay, Mom, love you, good night.”“Good night, sweetie.”

Photo 4. Casey Mulrow, EssexHigh School

Tessie knowsBY MACY LAWSON


It was a beautiful fall day, three daysbefore Halloween.

Kids think of Halloween as a time ofghosts and witches, but in my family, it isa time for carving pumpkins, going applepicking and jumping in piles of leaves.

My family always carves pumpkinsbefore Halloween. It is a tradition andtoday was the day for it.

When we were done carving pump-kins, I saw my dog Tessie on the floor bythe fire, getting fatter by the minute, andthought, “I should take her outside.”

So I grabbed the leash and headed out-side calling, “Tessie, wanna go outside?”

She continued to sit there, getting fat.Finally I went over, put her on the

leash and started dragging her out thedoor. I grabbed a ball, took Tessie off the

leash and threw the ball, saying, “Go getit, Tessie.”

She sat there watching the ball flythrough the air over and over and overagain. I knew that if she could talk, shewould be saying, “Why don’t you get it?”

She was a great dog for snuggling upby the fire and taking a nice, long nap onthe couch with, but a ball flying throughthe air didn’t seem to interest her whatso-ever. I finally decided to sit down beside

her in a nice patch of sun under a beauti-ful maple tree with leaves the colors of afresh apples.

All of a sudden, Tessie sat up and herears shot up. It was the fastest I had seenher move in a year. ... I tried to calm herdown by petting her, but she started tosprint away from the house...(Read the complete story at youngwritersproj-

ect.org/node/98581.)




YWP NEWS


PhotographBY WILLA LANE


8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


Photo Prompt 3. Chelsea Somerset, Essex High School



PHOTO OF THE WEEK


NEXT PROMPTS





AMY E. TARRANT FOUNDATION

Young Writers Project is anindependent nonprofit that en-gages students to write, helps themimprove and connects them withauthentic audiences in newspapers,

before live audiences, on web sites, youngwritersproject.org , vpr.net ,

vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com, andin The Voice, YWP’s new monthlydigital magazine. To learn more, goto youngwritersproject.org or contactYWP at (802) 324-9537.




week, we present responses to the prompt for General

writing in any genre. Read more at youngwritersproj-

ect.org and YWP’s new digital magazine, The Voice.

Alex Russell, Essex High School

YWP’S KEY EVENT

OF THE YEAR!

SATURDAY, NOV. 8

9:30 A.M. – 5 P.M.


MONTPELIER

More details

at youngwritersproject.org

THE VOICE

YWP’S NEW DIGITAL MAGAZINE

IS AVAILABLE NOW!

Go to youngwritersproject.org andclick on The Voice or go to this link:bit.ly/1CaT9WB.

Next issue coming Oct. 22!Go to youngwritersproject.org toview the magazine and subscribe.

It’s free!


It’s floating, floating, in shimmeringwater,not telling the tale of tragedy.Mother, smiling, young and laughing;father, proud, protecting and caring;

baby, blue-eyed, innocent;all so full of life and promise.He went to work; big red trucks andbrightly colored hoses.She went to work; tall buildings and of -fice cubicles.The baby went to day care; so many newtoys and faces,and then to Mommy’s office for snacktime.But then,

planes crashing!Fire, fire!Sirens wailing!Hurry, hurry!Twins falling!Screams, screams!No escape.Gone.Mother, father, child,part of the rubble now,holding one another.

It’s floating, floating in firehose water,not telling the tale of tragedy.

Walk in the woodsBY ROSLYN PARKER


I hear the crunch of leaves below my feet

as the wind blows with soft wisps of coolair,sounds of squirrels chattering as theymeet,up and down, climbing the trees as theydare.Many elaborate natural sounds hereas I walk along the forgotten path.The soft noises of leaves crunching I hear,the covering of leaves like soap in a bath.Skies shine with illuminating color;

vivid blue lights up the beautiful sky.Every step I take, the world seemssmaller.I feel as though this might all be a lie.The world crumbles into little pieces;my eyes open slowly as the dream ceases.

Angel. For the first time you meet your guardian angel. Write a short story develop-

ing your guardian’s character and his or her relationship with you. Alternates: Snapchat.

“This is no time to Snapchat!” Use this sentence in your story, poem or play. What has

just happened or is about to happen?; or Photo 3 (right). Due Oct. 17

Letter. Write a letter to your mother, father, a grandparent, teacher or favorite person

to say thanks – for something special they do, or for everything. Provide a specific story

to show why the person is so great. Alternate: Habit. Think about a bad habit you might

have and create a character with a similar bad habit. Write about why the character won’t

easil ive u the habit. Due Oct. 24

THIS WEEK: Objects & Photo 1



Book and wordsBY MEADOW MCGALLIARD


It takes practiceBY GRACE DAVIS


8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


PHOTO OF THE WEEK





05401.


VERMONT BUSINESS R OUNDTABLE






week, we present responses to the prompts, Objects:

Write about a relationship between two objects; and

Photo 1 (right). More at youngwritersproject.org .

, y

Perspective of the Book: I started outas a tree; that was an interesting experi-ence though it didn’t last long. I was tornapart and put back together, but I was dif-ferent. I was merely a collection of blank

sheets. I was a little lonely. I couldn’tmove or sense anything so there wasnothing to do.

At some point that I don’t quiteremember there was a machine pressingagainst my pages and after that every-thing changed. I acquired a vocabularyand a beautiful story full of adventure,confusion, troubles and beauty. At first Icouldn’t comprehend the words knowncollectively as a story. I was confused,sad, and worried that something terrible

had happened. Eventually it was like Iwas hearing voices but I realized that itwas a bit different. It was calming; it wasthe words expressing themselves to me inthe only way they could. I eventually fellin love with the words; there was a hun-ger that I couldn’t repress. I wanted allI could possibly have and maybe even alittle bit more. I began to envy the wordsand how they could have so much mean-ing yet be so simple. Because I can’t talk,

see, feel, hear or use any other so-calledsenses I was just left to ponder and re-think the words over and over again untilthey were almost unrecognizable. Afterthis I realized that even though the wordswere the only thing that I had, I still cher-ished them for giving me something veryfew other things could – a purpose and ameaning.

Perspective of the Words: We aresomething more than a blot of ink. We

are vast and endless but we are limitedto the pages of this book. As we sit hereon these pages, we loathe being trappedyet we can appreciate having a place tobe. This book provides us with what canalmost be called a home; we can stayhere compared to drifting through a mindor in the voices of people. Sometime wewant to be more than we are because ina book we are limited to one story, oneplot line. Yet, it’s nice to have a sense ofsecurity, not worrying about being forgot-

ten, misused, misunderstood or havingmore words than can be handled. A bookcan be restricting yet secure. It’s confus-ing... We haven’t always been the wordswe are now, placed on the pages of abook. Originally we were an idea, a merethought. Then we became physical, wewere strategically placed dots of ink ona blank piece of paper that formed letterswhich then formed words...Complete story at youngwritersproject.org/node/97841.

, y

I’ve seenpeople doingamazingtricks onskateboards,

riding up anddown bigramps all day.Or gettingsome air, orgoing acrosslong skinnyramps. I havealso seen not-so-talentedpeople ridingskateboards.

Once Iwas at myfriend’shouse when Ispotted a skateboard in the far corner ofthe garage. I guess my friend saw it toobecause she went over and picked it up,stood on it, started moving, and attemptedto land back on the skateboard. Longstory short, she missed the skateboard andfell on her bum ...

A week or two later, I wanted to tryit for myself – to really see how hard itcould be. My first mistake was doing it onconcrete. The good news was that I couldhold onto a railing to help me keep mybalance.

Just standing on that skateboard mademe feel cool.

I was thinking of how soon I would beable to ride a skateboard.

About a minute passed, and I still

had only one foot on the skateboard. Ifigured out early that skateboards are verywobbly. I hung on tightly to the railingand carefully placed my other foot on theboard. I started off by carefully movingmy body back and forth. Then I movedon, going from railing to railing on eitherside of the stairs.

I thought I was so great until I startedmoving a little too fast and the skate-board slipped out from underneath me.I reached out to grab the railing and just

barely held on so I would not lose my bal-ance and fall.

Since that time I’ve never ridden askateboard again. I guess skateboardingtakes a lot of practice. It’s not somethingI will even think about doing again. Turnsout that the sports for me are basketballand soccer. Skateboarding will forever bea thing of the past.

Photo 1. Erin Bundock, Champlain Valley

Union High School

Jared Lee, Essex High School

THIS WEEK: Objects & GeneralEach week, Young Writers Project receives several


d N H hi A f ff d

Fall momentsBY HANNAH FALCONE

Grade 8, Plainfield Elementary School

TurquoiseBY MIANDA WOOD

Grade 11, Pacem Learning Center

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015






NATIONAL LIFE GROUP





prompts, Objects: Write about a relationship between

two objects; and General writing. More at young-

writersproject.org .

YWP NEWS

Young Writers Project is an inde- pendent nonprofit that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, before liveaudiences and on web sites, young-writersproject.org , vpr.net , vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com. YWP also


INTRODUCING...

Young Writers Proj-ect’s new digital literarymagazine – a multimediamonthly that showcases

the best writing, art, pho-tography, audio and videoposted on YWP’s website, youngwritersproject.org.

Subscription is free!Go to youngwritersproj-ect.org and click on TheVoice or go to this link:bit.ly/1CaT9WB.

Cover photo: Josina Munson, EssexHigh School

NEXT PROMPTS

Room. You have a chance to

redesign your room from scratch

with no limits. What do you do? Alternates: Lie. Use the sentence,

“You don’t have to lie; I know it

was you,” in a poem or story; or

General writing. Your best piece

in any genre. Due Oct. 10

Angel. For the first time you meet

your guardian angel. Write a short

story developing your guardian’s

character and his or her relation-

ship with you. Alternates: Snap-

chat. “This is no time to Snap-

chat!” Use this sentence in your

story, poem or play. What has just

happened or is about to happen?;

or Photo 3. Due Oct. 17

Photo 3. Chelsea Somerset, Essex High School

Clock and its handsBY KERRICK CAVANAUGH


A clock is the thing we look at whenwe want a class to end or a package to

arrive. The clock is the thing we expectto be in favor of us, but it never really is,is it?

When you look at a clock, you seenumbers, but these “numbers” are the fig-ures we despise in math class, the figureswe wish never existed.

You also see hands, which are simplylines pointing to numbers that guide ourlives and our decisions. For example, theclock tells you when you are late, so you

rush, and when you rush, you get injured.Just by looking at the clock and seeingthat the hands were pointing at a locationyou expected not, you told yourself torush and you got injured.

Who would ever think somethingthat hangs on the wall and is completelyharmless, could control your life asmuch as it does? You may think, “I don’tdepend on the clock.” Well, yes, you do.You depend on the clock to wake you upat exactly 6:00 a.m. Also you depend onthe clock to tell you when to go to lunch.

The hands on a clock and the clockitself have a strong relationship. As longas the hands continue to move, the clockwill be looked upon and function as awhole.

A clock and its hands are like a femaleand its pup. They will never turn on eachother, and they will never part. But, atsome point, one will stop functioning,while the other hopes for a replacement.

The icy fingers of frost slither stealthilyalong the ground,coating all of yesterday,tickling the feathers of the sleeping geese,awakening winter’s sleepy eyes,

giving the pond a shimmering surface ofice.But Sun peeks his sly head around the icyclouds,promising life,scattering warmth,melting ice,telling leaves to hold onforust

a little

bitlonger.

g

When the West sun shineson the Capital dome,I squint on my walk home.If I were blindand made this walk,

I think I woulddescribe it ... turquoise.I can seethe city spilled outbefore me.Now with my eyesgold is the color overthe mountains,with the windand the sunwarming my face.

I can feel the sun calledturquoise.

THIS WEEK: Treasure

Each week, Young Writers Project receives submis-

sions from students across Vermont and New Hamp-

A kid againBY ABBY DETRICK

Grade 10, Northfield High School

Perfectly goodBY ELIZA GOODELL


8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015





05401.




shire. A team of staff, mentors and students selects the

best writing and images for publication. This week,

we present responses to the prompt, Treasure.What is

something you should throw away but can’t? How did

you get the object? More at youngwritersproject.org.

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

Jasmine Douglas-Hughes, Mount Mansfield Union High School

Young Writers Project is an inde- pendent nonprofit that engages stu-dents to write, helps them improveand connects them with authenticaudiences in newspapers, beforelive audiences and on web sites,

youngwritersproject.org , vpr.net ,

vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com. YWPalso publishes The Voice, a monthlydigital magazine. To learn more, goto youngwritersproject.org or contactYWP at (802) 324-9537.

NEXT PROMPTS

Complicated. Your life is complicated, and some

days, there’s just one mess after another. Describe

one of those days in detail – it can be funny or tragic.

Alternates: Leaf. Write from the point of view of one

leaf on a large, colorful maple tree; or Photo 2 (right).

Due Oct. 3 Photo 2. Jeff Schultz, Essex High School

My treasures aren’t found in a safe,or a glass case,or a chest.They aren’t made of gold,dripping with diamonds.

They aren’t worth much(at least to other people.)But to me,they hold a special place in my heart.In their pages lay the narratives I know(probably too well.)And the memoriesof many hours spentporing over the stories.The pages capturedthe smiles,

the laughs,and even the tearsas ghostly splatters,long since dried,and branded into the once-empty margins.My treasures are foundstuffed in a shelf.And every so often,I’ll sit(criss-cross applesauce)and run my fingers over their bindings.

Until I find the oneI had thought of earlier that day.I’ll slide it from its spotand crack it open.And just like that,I’m whisked awayto a familiar land.And I smile,and laugh,and the tears flow freely,soon to become ghosts in the margins.

And all of a sudden,I’m a kid again.

Keep awardsBY LEANN CHEN


There’s a teddy bear I received from

my 3rd grade teacher. I earned it for read-ing 20 minutes for homework every nightfor the entire school year.

I should throw it away because I’mgetting older and no longer need it, butsomething inside of me says not to.

That teddy bear has too much senti-mental value to me. It’s kind of like anaward. Awards should never be thrownout. That’s why I’ve kept it to this day.

Why would I throw out a perfectly goodrobe?Good question. I wouldn’t.But it’s not a perfectly good robe.Then again, define perfectly good.

Your definition might be a little differentfrom mine.Or my mother’s.She threatens to throw it out on a weeklybasis.I say that I’ll do it next week.Sure, it has seen better days.There are a few stains from when I madebrownies,and when I wore it to the barn,and the burn hole, where it almost caught

on fire.I say it adds personality.Mom says it’s disgusting.Why do I still wear it?Mom even bought me another one,hoping that would convince me.No thanks, I like this one.Maybe next week.At one point, it was pink and fluffy.Soft fleece, perfect for cold winter morn-ings.

Now, it is still perfect for cold wintermornings.Not quite sure about the pink and fuffypart, though.Why do I still wear it?New things are better in our minds, I’vedecided.Do you like new, stiff slippersor ones that are soft and broken in –the ones with the stories behind them?I think my choice is obvious.

I don’t want to wear a brand new robe,one that still smells like the store,one that still has the tag on it.No thank you.Why can’t I throw it out?I don’t need to, that’s why.I won’t throw it out until I need to.Or until it completely burns up.That could be a while.Oh, well.Mom still threatens to throw it out.

Maybe next week, I say.

YWP INTRODUCES

THE VOICE

A NEW DIGITAL MAGAZINE

COMING THIS WEEK!

More at youngwritersproject.org

You wouldn’t knowBY EMILY WEATHERILL

rade 10, The Sharon Academy

THIS WEEK: General writingEach week, Young Writers Project receives several


YWP NEWS

COMING SOON ...

8/11/2019 Times Argus 2014-2015


NEXT PROMPTS

or Olivia

f I died, you wouldn’t know.ou’d

go on for

ears,ondering why I didn’t respondoextsnd emails.aybe, one day you’d hear me spoken of

n the past tense,nd not really register it:

“I saw her a couple years ago,herefore the past tense is normal.”

aybe years later,

omeone will remember me, and you’llay:“I wonder what happenedo her?”nd people will stop

nd staret you.

“You don’t know?”omeone will say, confused.

“Know what?”ou’ll ask.

nd then they’ll tell you,he truth,hat you never knew.nd perhaps afterany

ights pondering how you didn’t justnow,ou decide youon’t believe, andsk where I’m buried.nd when you find where I

leep,idden among hundreds of othersarked with stone,

nstead of free with the wind,nder an oak,ou sitndalko the earth below you,elling me aboutll the camps Iissed,

nd when the sun is longown,nd all is dark,our voice floats in the breeze,inging all the songs (line by line) never learned,ishing I would sing along.




05401.


THE BAY AND PAUL

FOUNDATIONS





prompt for General writing in any genre. Read more

at youngwritersproject.org .

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

Deidre Vanmoerkerque, Essex High School

Young Writers Project is anindependent nonprofit that en-gages students to write, helps themimprove and connects them withauthentic audiences in newspapers,

before live audiences and on websites, youngwritersproject.org , vpr.

net , vtdigger.org , and cowbird.com.This month, YWP also launches TheVoice, a monthly digital magazinewith YWP’s best writing, images andfeatures. Learn more at youngwritersproject.org or contact YWP at (802)324-9537.

THE

CALVIN

WIN $1,500 FOR AN ESSAY ABOUT VERMONT

Write an essay and win $1,500and a trip to New York City to behonored at a reception!

Young Writers Project partnerswith the contest sponsor, the CalvinCoolidge Foundation, for the bestessay writing in Vermont for the2014 Calvin Prize.

This year’s theme: To stayor to leave? Are you likely to stayin Vermont or relocate elsewhere?What factors will influence yourdecision?

Use Coolidge’s autobiographyand other sources to address theissues you face and compare withthose faced by Calvin Coolidge inhis years as a Vermont youth. Your

writing must address this promptand be fewer than 1,000 words.

You can find more details at youngwritersproject.org/calvin.

Deadline: September 26

YWP’S NEW DIGITAL MAGAZINE

THE VOICE

Watch youngwritersproject.org

for more details on the launch!

Objects. Write

about a relationship

that develops be-tween two inanimate

objects (e.g., books

on a shelf, apps on

a phone, park bench

and trash bin). Alter-

nates: Aliens. Curious

aliens visit Vermont. What is the first

thing they do? What do they demand?

or Photo 1 (above). Due Sept. 19

Baton’s viewBY JUSTIN MAGILL


I’m an ebony and silver baton.I used to get tapped like a woodpeckertrying to get at sap to lure bugs.The reason why I was tapped so muchwas to get thosetwittering, talkative kids

to stop talking.

They sounded like tiny termites;they made me, oh so anxious.One time, one ofthe drummerswas playing bass drumand the back of the mallet cameflying off and hit the conductor in the eye,causing her to drop meand creating the crack I carry foreverin my ebony and silver body.

times argus 2014-2015

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