YWP7: Place stories

Students were asked about a place they wanted to visit, a place they had never been, real or imaginary. Here are some of the best of the many entries YWP received. Some of these were published in the five newspapers where YWP publishes each week.

Pennsylvania
By Cody Bowen
Rochester School, Grade 8

Every Saturday and Sunday I wake up at 8:00 to the sweet smell of bacon and sausage. When I walk into the living room I find my dad watching the Hunting Channel. Last Saturday, a father and son were on the show hunting for white-tailed deer in Pennsylvania.
And that’s one place I want to go that I have never been. There are huge deer in Pennsylvania and lots of open hardwoods. I can feel the nice cool winter morning breeze while I sit in a tree waiting silently, trying not to move a muscle, when I hear a crunch, crunch of a nice buck walking behind me. I wait quietly until it comes in close enough to get a shot; I look down and see that the deer is picking up the buds off the ground; looking around he shakes snow off his back watching all the does run around the field in front of me. I can see, at this point, that both the buck and I are shaking, nervously. I send out a loud doe call; the wind stops so my scent isn’t given away. The buck comes closer all the way to my tree stand to eat the food I’ve put out. I line the cross hairs up to his front shoulder and squeeze the trigger lightly with out jerking the gun. Crack! There lays the nice big Pennsylvania buck I have been waiting for, for some time.
This is why I really want to go to Pennsylvania.

Harbor
By Sam Scheu
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Early morning fog
Blanketing the calm harbor
Rising and waking

A place to be
By Mirnesa Talic
John J. Flynn Elementary School, Grade 5

I am in Germany.
Close to Bosnia and Herzegovina.
And far away from the United States of America.
I can see tall brick buildings,
Many happy people at the city center
And a lot of clothes stores.
I can hear many people talking, people laughing,
loud and fast cars and buses.
I can smell people’s perfumes,
Cars and buses
And all kinds of pies.
I can taste the sweet raspberry pie
It is warm and the top
Is covered with whipped cream.
I can taste my apple juice,
Cold like water.
I can feel my heart beating
As fast as a dog running.
My mom is waiting for me
And I have to run
As fast as that dog.

This Lovely Place Where All Can Be
By Toni Althea Richardson
Rochester High School, Grade 10

The place I’m in it smells so sweet;
Where all is calm and none shall weep.
All connections here and after,
Bring often with them rings of laughter.

People come and people go,
Things feel right, with gold they glow.
The people here and everywhere,
Are all nice and none have fear.

The slightest doubt, thoughts of hate,
Turn often cold, and meet their fate.
Here none can hurt, none can hide,
All can see, and none have lied.

In between lives here they’re found,
Here to come, and none are bound.
They rest here, and sing their songs.
They feel warmed and right their wrongs.

And from here they leave, nothing to waste,
Their memories they leave in this lovely place.
Though none remember all do see,
This lovely place where all can be.

Whatever you want…
By Sierra Cruikshank
Rochester School, Grade 8

Inside a book I’ve only been once before
Maybe Wonderland, Dr. Suess, galore
I see the silly grickle-grass
Green, no blue, whatever you want.
It’s your imagination
Your clear storyboard
This is where you begin
A new world discovered
It’s a tropical land
A cold windy day
Whatever you can think of
It’s there in your head
If you see it, I’ll see it as simple as that
A pickle green toad a purple feathered hat
The hills in Asia the great barrier reef
Wherever you start I’m sure it’ll be fine,
Gorgeous at that, never mind
This story is yours do what you will
But remember that all the pages must be filled.

The Desert
By Noah S. Gray
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

A sea of sand
Undulating with the motion of still waves.
A spray of cinnamon
Whipping like froth into the air.
A ghostly shimmer
Blanketing the dunes in fire.
Above all,
The baleful gaze of a merciless sun.

Night falls,
The Sun closes its malevolent eye.
The moon’s soft radiance bathes the crests of sand.
The red intensity of day,
Fades.

In its place:
Lilting blue caresses.
Caresses that
Burn with frozen strokes,
Bite with teeth of ice,
And claw with fingers of frost.
The desert,
Freezes.
The fire:
A memory.
The scorching sun:
A dream.

Through it all,
A prophet walks.
A man who seeks the truth.
He searches.
Always onward.
Shoulders stooped against the wind,
Head bowed by nature’s cruel indifference.
He finds:
Sand.
Rock,
And sand.
Nothing breaks the dull monotony.

Suns and moons continue their dance,
As the prophet,
Always seeking,
Ever vigilant,
Walks on.

As dawn’s pink glow once more illuminates the sand,
The prophet ascends a dune.
His back bathed in pristine light,
He gazes,
Surveying a world awash with rosy splendor.

As his eyes roam the contours of the land,
He sees:
A pocket of moisture?
a small spring.
Around which,
Life,
In all its rich, green, vibrancy,
Thrives.
A mouse,
Dappled fur and nimble paws,
Scurries through the brush;
Rustling plants,
Kicking up small spouts of dirt.
And a breeze,
Softened by the cool, wet vapor,
Ruffles the fronds of creation.

Here the Prophet rests.
He breathes in,
Eyes closed.
The heady aroma of plants,
The soothing gentle air,
Surrounds him.
And he realizes:
This is my message.
Life.
Life despite the harshness.
Life despite the stark uncaring inhospitality.

And then,
He opens his eyes.
And realizes:
He is wrong.

He sees the desert,
Not with his eyes,
But with his soul.
Once he thought it was
Treacherous,
Remorseless,
A Being of destruction,
But now he can see that the desert is part of the whole.
There is no conflict.
There is no enemy.
There can be no anger,
There can be no hate.
The desert is the desert.
Life is life.
The spirit of God is within everything,
The form it wears is but a covering.

And the prophet,
Eyes glistening with wonder,
Traveled the world
Spreading this message.
From the sea of sand,
To the sea of man.

December
By Mary Griffin
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Change stops
breath stops
beauty falls.
Black skins of trees
Lace late autumn sky
with early December snow
and crimped November cold.

Stars pin
a twilight sky to its
skein of velvet.
Leaves poke lobes and folds
above the white, and
bespeak dying rust.

Wind creaks about the boughs of a sad forest.

An Arctic visit
By Cole Guerriere
Shelburne Community School, Grade 6

I woke up. It was cold and an icy wind stung my face. The bed in which I had gone to sleep had been replaced with a crusty layer of cold. Snow? I lifted my back up from the ground and looked around. I could hear a moan of wind, and tiny flecks of ice were flicking my skin. So barren, freezing, dark.

“It’s a dream,” I thought casually and lay down on the snow. “I’ll just close my eyes, and I’ll wake up." I laid my head down and closed my eyes. But nothing happened. I stood up and brushed flakes of snow off my back.

“Realistic dream,” I said out loud.

I saw lights up in the sky. The northern lights. They were real. They made beautiful patterns of green and red, yellow and blue. I started to get nervous. Short penguins waddled toward me. They honked, and three more came over, one with an egg in its feet. They crunched around in the snow. My pajamas weren’t holding up against the cold. They were thin and light and were now soaked with ice. I started to run. My bare feet were freezing as I ran and ran. The penguins waddled after me.

“It is real,” I thought.

“Squawk!” said the biggest bird, shuffling with the egg. I knelt down on the ground and sobbed. A cake of snow covered my face, and I laid head down in the snow. The ground was freezing, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get home. And I was stranded in some snowy place in the middle of nowhere. I got up and brushed off snow. Tears of fright ran down my face. I shivered and began to run or at least I tried to.

I stepped out onto a patch of ice. The penguins, still following me, fell on their bellies and slid in all directions. I tried to walk but fell. The snow had stopped falling so quickly and was now falling slowly from the sky like cotton. I looked around to see that the penguins had left. I decided to look for them. I carefully slid along the ice, now covered with a thin layer of sticky snow. I couldn’t feel my feet, which I guess was a good thing, since they didn’t feel freezing.

Then suddenly I slipped and traveled along the ice. The ground was sloping now, and I couldn’t get up. I was on my back, head facing down. My back was getting really cold and stinging. Faster now, the slope was increasing. Now I was rolling on my side, steeper and steeper. I was really hurting now. Then I stopped. I had slammed into something. Something big and wet. I looked up to see a giant, ugly beast in my face. A walrus. His tusks were gleaming with water. He snorted and remained still. Then he got up and started moving fast. I scrambled to my feet and ran as fast I could. I was surprised at how fast the walrus was. In fact he was three inches away from me, barking madly. I slipped on the ice and fell down. The walrus skidded on the ice and started slamming his tusks into the ice. Huge holes were erupting with freezing water. The walrus was stumbling in the layer of ice water. I got to my feet and to make sure the walrus wasn’t following me, I ran for my dear life.

But cracks were started to spread and the walrus was still making huge holes in the ice. I screamed as the cracks opened and water poured over. The ice was now becoming thinner and still cracked. I ran as fast as I could and soon I was of the ice. The walrus snorted and plunged into the water. I was so happy I laughed out loud. And then suddenly I felt it getting warmer. The ground turned to carpet, and the snow receded. A thin stream of moonlight crept though my window. I looked around to see myself standing in my bedroom.

“Squawk,” I heard.

“Realistic dream,” I said and lay down in my bed as if nothing had happened, even though there was a penguin in my room.

A Place I’ve Never Been
By Midori Cruikshank
Rochester High School, Grade 10

As I sit in class my mind starts to wander,
I dream of a place that has very warm sands and crystal blue water,
As I sit and sip my cool island drink
I start to wonder I start to think
Could this get any better?
I see something in the distance, is that Ms. Heather
Midori wake up the class isn’t done.
Oh man my dream was just starting to get fun.

The White House
By Claire Kellner
Charlotte Central School, Grade 3

I wish I could go to the White House
dressed in a skirt and a blouse.
I wish I could go to the White House
meet the president and his spouse.
I wish I could go to the White House
and be served a five-star meal.
I wish I could go to the White House
Vote for me, and I'll go for real!

The Place I Love Most
By Feora Leveillee
Founders Memorial, Grade 3

The place I love the most is
Indian Brook Reservoir.
When I look around I see
Mire trails
Immense trees
And a gleaming lake.
When I am there
I feel a chilly breeze
I see a muddy bank
And hear rustling leaves
And the water strike up against
The rocks.
Where else can I
Feel so thrilled
Swimming in a lake?