week10-08

The Young Writers Project is looking for great student art to publish each week! This photo illustration was done by Devin Larsen a senior at Mount Mansfield High School. Click on the photo for more. If you want to submit your photos for potential outside publication, click here for more info. Click here to see the image galleries for the last two years.

Hunting

By Christian Thompson
Rochester High School, Grade 9

My dad and I had been hunting all day and we were in our last spot until we called it quits. We had been sitting there for about a half an hour and my dad whispered “five more minutes and we’ll get out of here.”

My Name

By Bea Woodruff
Charlotte Central School, Grade 5

There I was, upstairs in my playroom, sweating like crazy. It felt like a volcano was erupting inside of me, a volcano of frustration!

Learning to write my name was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, probably in my whole entire life. It didn’t make sense, “silent-e”, letter formation. I thought the whole thing hogwash! I was absolutely sure that I couldn’t do it!

“Come on, Bea!” I urged myself on. I made a “B.” One down two to go! “Yes, Bea you did it!” I congratulated myself. I was proud, probably as proud as a fox with its prey.
Then I forgot what came next. Fierce tears burned and glittered in my eyes, like boiling water.
I finally crossed out the “B” then, wholeheartedly I wrote another “B,” then an “e.” “Go Bea!” I cheered.

I See Nothing but Black

By Miranda Shepard
Rochester High School, Grade 9

I can’t see them,
I don’t know if they notice me,
They talk of brightness, and different colors,
But black is all I see.

I want to see what they talk about,
The colors and the light,
I want to once see the day,
Instead of always seeing night.

You see, my life is filled with darkness,

I am the Girl...

By Sarah Staib
Leland and Gray High School, Grade 10

I am the girl from down the old dirt road,
with the smell of rain and the sound of birds.
From the green grassy fields,
with wild flowers in her hair.
From Speedy-Pup with Robin Hood,
when we were still young.
From ice cream in your belly,
or just all over your face.
From bright hospitals,

The Passive Serpent

By Hanna Kingston
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 9

when the ruby bellied serpent slithers over brittle leaves
discarded by the slender birch and splendid elm
and laps at their many colors, that burn the crisp red of dying autumn
small wonder in the forest realm
is it magic

when his blue forked tongue wraps around the many trees

Deer Hunting Gone wrong: When Guns Attack

I was in the emergency room. I kept shaking and I couldn’t stop crying. I was so nervous; my heart was beating so fast I felt like I was going to pass out. Hang on, let’s start from the beginning — youth hunting weekend 2006, I was hunting with Dad and my sister when something terrible happened.

It was 4:30 a.m. and I was just waking up to head out into the woods. My dad, sister Jackie, and I went out with flash lights and guns in hand. I had been waiting for this day all year, especially after seeing a nice 8-point buck on a motion detector camera in the area where we were hunting. A few hours passed, and we saw our first deer. The deer was moving so I followed it with my gun, then it decided to stop behind a tree. I had a choice here, the head or the hind leg. I chose the leg and missed.

Hunting

By Justin Joseph Iovanni
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 12

I awake early in the morning.
Still my friend sleeping and snoring.
Porridge for breakfast,
Let’s eat quick.
Until the final lick.
Throw on my boots, grab my gun.
Now its time these animals are done!
The cool damp air darkens this place.
I’ve got a scent we’ve made a trace.

Turkey Hunting

By Dylan Pratt
Rochester School, Grade 9

It was a Saturday morning at 4:45 a.m. on youth weekend. My hunting partner, Artey, and I were getting ready to go turkey hunting. We drove to Tunbridge and parked at the end of a back road. I put on my coat and loaded up my 12-gauge shotgun.

Escape

By Rachel Buhler
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

The leaves rustle
and the deer takes note
Looking all around
To see
Who’s near.
A trigger is pulled
And a shot is fired
But the deer
Ran.
Away.
And survived a terrible fate
Escaped.

Taps

By Tyler Hogstrom
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

The Soldier

By Justinah Duhaime
Hartford High School, Grade 12

The black shine in his boots are the only
part of him I can remember, as he walked
toward the faded yellow taxi at the end
of our driveway.
I remember the way his
boots danced across the concrete, the
way they fearlessly scattered the sand of the ant
hill protruding from the crack in the curb,

Where I'm From

By Emma Redden
Leland and Gray High School, Grade 10

When I was born, a new bud opened on the Red Maple
Sitting on top the hill
At the end of Chapin Road. I am from that tree.

On July 5th I became the first of three and the
Ninth of nineteen. As I am one of nineteen
I am also one of millions,
Of potatoes that fed my own when all they could
Claim was a dream of something different.
I am from Ireland.

When my own mother was only a hope of the future
my great grandmother was sending freedom,
to her own blood, trapped in the Hell of Germany.
Only Hell if you wore a yellow star.
I am from bravery.

Passing days in green fields of gold
I understood that Heaven was on earth.
My heaven existed in the beauty of
White snowflakes, orange leaves,
And sweet grass. Still a baby,
Encompassed in my own
Imagination, I held ants as if breathing
Could break them.
I am from the earth.
Saturday mornings at the park,
Sleeping on Daddy’s stomach.
As my thirst for life grew,
Sleeping no long became our pastime,
But repetitive conversation, Daddy’s bread,
Blocks, naughty smiles.
Only a million times I told daddy that
Mommy was night night.
I am from my mother.

Why when we are children can the contentment
Of friends be just as pleasing,
Even if they are invisible?
Eno and Nonie toke the credit and blame
For everything I couldn’t.
When Eno and Nonie were tired
Dru-dru took their place well,
Following Meemi and my naked self
In our explorations and adventures,
Ponds are very interesting.
Naked walks with the dog weren’t eternal,
But my imagination could be satisfied.
A paint brush, a crayon,
A pencil.
When my lungs were finally exhausted
Or everyone was done listening,
Art became a voice I could always find.
I am from my hands.

Discovering my need to move was a blessing
That only spring floors and wooden bars could fulill.
Nothing is more exciting than defying gravity,

Stella

By Emily Brooks
Shelburne Community School, Grade 5

Your sneaky cat feet
Scampering across the floor.
I’m lying on my bed.
You meow. It makes me jump.
You hop on my bed with a thump!
I pet your soft furry body.
You purr. You are very happy.

(Note: This is only an excerpt of a larger story that the writer is working on. Click here to read the whole story.)

By Rebecca Valley
St. Albans Town Educational Center, Grade 8

It was silent. Sun streamed in through the back window, falling across my face. I opened my eyes, rubbing the sleep drowsily away. I was in the back seat, sprawled out, head resting on my clothing bag. I wore warm sweatpants, Claudia’s. Zachary slept in the passenger seat, head resting against the cool window. I shivered. The cold morning air crept in from outside, and I looked around the car for the keys.

Finding nothing, I hesitantly tapped Zachary’s shoulder.
“Zachary?” I whispered. He twitched but didn’t wake. “Zachary?” I asked, a little louder. Still nothing.

Gunshot

By Rebecca Valley
St. Albans Town Educational Center, Grade 8

Soft brown,
Warm,
Doe-eyes,
Light,
Steady.
It nibbles
At the browning grass,
Calm.
It eats,
Alone,
It lives.
And then

A crack
Of branch
That snaps ahead.
Eyes wide,
It looks about,
Searching,
Red and orange
Blending,
Hiding him.
But then

A rustle.
Branches shake.
Silence.
Finally

Even Though I Love You

By Nicole Sherman
Leland and Gray High School, Grade 8

I woke up this morning,
to find that everyone had already left.
I made a cheap breakfast
and got ready for my day.

i washed my hair
even though it was already clean.
i dried my hair
even though it would dry itself.
I put on the mascara that you once liked
even though we don't talk anymore.
i put on the eye-liner that you always hated
just in spite of you....then washed it off for you,
even though you wouldn't look.
i put on the eye-liner you always liked
even though you wouldn't notice
i put on the shirt you got me
then took it off
even though it was my favorite.
i looked in the mirror and smiled.
even though i looked horrible.
i smiled again because you liked my smile,
then frowned
because you wouldn't care anymore.
i sat down and listened to your mix
even though i hate it.
i'm sitting here trying to forget you

Even though I Love You

The Willow Weeps

By Melissa Soule
Leland and Gray High School, Grade 9

Sweeping, swaying skirts of pale celery brush the ground,
Like a soft sigh in the wind.
Small leaves flutter, silver winking eyes alive with movement.

Graceful arcs form in easy bent boughs,
Reaching like a child to touch their toes,
And gliding down to just kiss the ground.

One More Moment

By Julie Elizabeth Curran
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

I'm here before you,
But don't look away,
Or I won't be there.

I'm staring into your eyes,
But don't blink,
Or I won't be gazing back.

I'm holding your hand,
But don't let go,
Or I'll be lost once again.

I'm holding you tight,
But don't pull away,
Or the moment will be lost.

New Shoes

By Elizabeth Newcity
Lake Region Union High School, Grade 12

I mostly show you mysteries,
I mostly tell you lies,
And each time that I see your face
I put on a disguise.
But somehow you hold on to me,
Refuse to let me go.
If I let slip a piece of me
You help me let it show.
When new shoes start to fit my feet
I set them far aside,
But want to keep wearing these

The Broken World

By Isaac Comstock
Lake Region Union High School, Grade 11

My friend once said that the world looks like a finger painting done with broken hands. I saw the last mantis today eat it's own and screw itself into nothing. into nothing. I am told that we had hands once, so then we started carrying knives. Now we have knives instead; so even when we try to embrace, we stab.My friend is the one who can turn their head and a blind eye to this rotting souless lie.

By Libby Wilson
Oxbow Middle School, Grade 8

The moon shone through the trees
That fateful winters day
When poor Will Bombadil
Had many things to say
He talked until the trees fell down
And stars fell from the sky
But the moon shone on

Will spoke of horrid things
Of pain and angry beasts
He spoke the tongue of Linglebing
Of evil dark and deep
The creatures fell and turned to dust
But the moon shone on

His voice crushed the stones to dust
And pounded hills to dirt
He talked the highest mountain down
And spoke a dent into the earth
And as the mess fell all around
The moon shone on

As Will spoke away the world
He tripped upon a stone
He fell into that little dent
And then was all alone
His voices ceased to speak their words
But the moon shone on

As soon as the voices ceased
The world began repairing
The hills retained their bulky shape
The forest retained its bearings
Again the wolves hunted elk
And trout swam up their streams

When You Know the Season is Dead

By Timothy H. Carter
South Burlington High School, Grade 12

The crows are bloated;
They strut across concrete, past my feet.
Talons scratch music for the decaying.
I cannot stare at their remorseless eyes
So unafraid, now that I must layer myself against the wind.

The stalks bend sideways as though sick.
Yellow and brittle, they are close to death

Static Rain

By Liz Spier
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 11

Fumbling for words that can speak for themselves
Is like watching static on a TV screen,
This cold sweat breaking out when no lines come to mind,
Each word the unadulterated truth,
This brilliantine glow working its way through the pieces that have cracked and fallen

And Sometimes You'll Crumple Paper

By Hannah Greer
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 12

and sometimes inspiration will strike you when you never thought it would
and sometimes you’ll feel like your life is on repeat.
and sometimes you’ll feel like your life is on repeat.
and you’ll realize no matter how original you are,
there are ten other people like you.
and you’ll feel like life is one big cliché
and that the words you hate
are the ones you use the most.
and that lines mean nothing
they just look good.
and you’re happy with what you have,
but you don’t think anyone else will be
And you’ll feel like your life is on repeat.
And you’ll feel like your life is on repeat.
You’ll feel that sad sense of sameness
In everything you do.
How this writing feels original
But you’re just stealing what
someone else should be doing.
And you’ll come to figure out
That it doesn’t rhyme.
And you don’t have to make nature a metaphor.
Or talk about pie.
Because whatever the clicks make
is good enough for you.
And no one else will get it.
but it’s okay.
Because their life will be on repeat.
Because their life will be on repeat.

Similies

By Sarah Levine
The Grammar School, Grade 8

Tears fall like rain
From my squeezed-shut eyes
As I think of you
Your warm lips
But they have kissed so many others
Your deep blue eyes
That looked at me
So many times
But they have also looked at so many others,
And in the same way
Your hard warm chest
That I pressed my cheek against
When we danced