Frances C. Richmond Middle School

The Mysterious Blue Door

This is the story of how a door changed my life. I was nearly thirteen years old. At the time, I loved to swim, read, play the piano, I got good grades, and loved to write. My parents were always supportive of everything I did, my homework, my sports, my music. Read more »

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Online

I’m tired, it’s late. Three long, hard hours ago I started on my homework. I have enough homework to last me the week, but I’m almost done. Fffffhheeeeuuuu! I close my social studies notebook and turn on my old, battered mac to do English. It looks like google 8.7x is out. Read more »

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The Thingy

Eureka! I’ve done it! I’ve finally done it! Those were the sounds coming from our basement on a cool thursday night.What I thought, finished filling out tax forms, doing laundry, getting groceries? Going down my mental list of things that my dad hasn’t done in a while. Read more »

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"This is no time to Snapchat!"

Mrs. Swampspoon was a terrible principal. She hated everything. Everything hated her. She was a monster. She stumbled down the hallway, always a nasty grin on her face. Her hair was a greasy black mop, animals seemed to be hiding in there. Read more »

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Thank You Mom

Dear Mom,

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My Guardian Angel

I was sitting at the table in the math room, debating over question ten. "It's not zero. It can't be zero. It's multiplication, not addition. Even though there's negative numbers in here," I declared, stabbing my finger at a negative nine, "The number will only keep getting bigger no matter what I do." Jack considered this briefly, then began to protest. I shook my head, hair whipping into my face. I brushed the hair out of my eyes and stared around in surprise. Everyone was gone. Even Mr Behre, with his half finished equation on the board. Just- gone. Disappeared.The papers pinned to the board fluttered.

Where had they gone? For some strange reason, I didn't panic. I wandered up the hallway in a trance-like state. When I made it to the lobby, I stared at the door. Outside the windows, an unfamiliar forest stood, full of dark, forbidding trees. I tried the door, but it was, predictably, locked. Read more »

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Oceania's picture

Home Sweet Home

I don't do "normal". "Usual" just isn't my thing. Like today, for instance. I have fallen into the online site Young Writers Project. How unusal. Well, that's my usual. Ha ha. I jump up, and slam my head against a new blog post on the front page. Ow. I fall over, and hit my mouse pointer. Double ow. I grab onto the mouse for support, and it slides out of my grasp. I look up to the top of the page, where I can barely see the words Hi, Justagirl as an option. That's my profile. Read more »

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Oceania's picture

Today's Great Philosophical Discussions

OMG i <3 txting soooo much!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#luv life!!!!!!!!!!!!

BRB, gotta go selfie.

TTYL. ;p

im back.

BTW i <3 u

: )

mght be l8 4 smthing but dont care. 

YOLO, u know

gtg, MOS

CUL8er

im back again

#BOYF ;-*

LOL. 

jk no BOYF :'(

myb l8er

#selfies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

like all my life

cant get enuff!!!  Read more »

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Oceania's picture

Burn, Fire, Burn

Exile the icy chill 

Melt the frost

And char the wood. 

 

Throw the sparks into the night

Burning sap

And dead brown leaves. 

 

Glowing embers borne by wind 

Heat the ground

In small attempts.

 

At the mercy of the sky 

Killed by wind

Yet kept alive. 

 

Logs collapse and end the fight

Empty pit

And smoke above. 

 

No more flames to light the dark. 

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Oceania's picture

Bird Refugee Number 8

You once gawked, 

amazed

at me, 

queen of the skies, 

upon her throne, 

wings of strength

folded,

fierce eyes 

matched with

razor talons 

and a fiery temper. 

Do not cross

me I said

silently from

atop my kingdom. 

Well now,

the throne is broken,

toppled, burned

and ashes spread.

I am forced

to present

myself

to you

crippled, humiliated,

ruling the rope-wrapped sticks

and wooden platforms Read more »

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