week15

Alone
By Kati Borsh
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Alone he stands
Eyes cast down
Lost yet found
Ripped clothes
Full of misfortune
Yet somehow content
Happy in his own little paradise

Working day and night
In the fields
Around the farm
Hairs mussed
Skin pale
Bony
Yet behind the grim expression
A bit of happiness

What does the future hold?
By Heather Rameau
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

The young boy.
Spirited, full of energy, but alone.
Living a peaceful life,
yet screaming a silent moan.
Up at dawn, down at dark
Working all day
But he doesn’t have a say
His spirit young as the dawn of a new day,

Whiskey problems on the boy's mind
By Noah Gray
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Whiskey. I hate it. The smell? A sour reek. The color? Like old wet hay. And the terrible effect it has had upon my family.

My name is Willy Nickels, and it was a year and a half ago that my brother, Bill Nickels, left our house to smuggle a load of whiskey down from Canada. The Nickelses have always been serious whiskey runners; my father — Robert — my father’s father and his father before him all smuggled liquor into America. My older brother Bill, he was no different.

Chore time
By Kaiya Provost
Colchester High School, Grade 9

Ten years old and just waking up, he lives in a farm and prefers not to speak. He does not look at anyone in the wrong way, nor does he make himself known to others. He is but a child, and children are to be seen and not heard.

Prayers for those who don't understand
By Keisha Picknell
Hartford High School, Grade 10

A shy boy with sad eyes,
Lonely, reserved, disguised;
Mystery swept across his face
As if he was longing to win this race
Of telling his story,
His glory,
His pride of living where he does:
The Farm.
His soul feels empty, transparent.

Unbearable is the weight
By Whitney Dubie
Essex High School, Grade 12

Oh cold, reckless hollowed feet;
Oh heavy, miserable legs —
You carry me through these trials.

A shadow of her heavy weightless oppression
Coming over us like a lighted speck
On a mountainside.

It’s something unbearable,
Yet expected.

This boy is not what you think
By Paul Seaver
Hartford High School, Grade 10

This young boy is not living in poverty. He does not live on a farm as many would assume. His mornings do not consist of collecting eggs and milking cows. In fact, the boy has never even been to a farm. This boy is just a normal kid, but unlike other eight-year-old boys, he has a job.

My Uncle Bud
By Jesse Naumann
Richmond Elementary School, Grade 5

I interviewed a family friend who we call Uncle Bud. He is 72 years old. He was born and lived his first 20 years in Saint Albans Vermont. His most memorable experience happened in Burlington Vermont in March when he was 24 years old. He was in College. He didn’t live in a dorm but had an apartment in Burlington.

Ticker Tape
By Gretchen Kaija
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

“Once, when my father was still in his tailoring business, he had the shop, you know, and on the other side was the pool room, you know, with a pool table. And in the corner of the pool room was something called a ticker tape --”

“What’s that?” I interrupted, guessing it was probably some incredibly ancient device from when my grandmother was just a child.

Guardian Angel
By Sossina Gutema
Essex Middle School, Grade 6

From the Memory of Maria Avery

This is the story of my grandmother, Maria Avery who traveled with her family from Eger, which is now Chechoslavikia to West Germany. She was 11 years old at the time.

Every once in a while we have to cross the border from Eger (Czech) to West Germany. The point of these dangerous night time trips was to take our valuables to my Uncle’s house in West Germany.