Main Street Middle School

You step into the hotel elevator, and it’s crowded. You look around and see all the teenagers in superhero costumes, businessmen with girlfriends, and vacationing tourists. You fit into the second category, only without the girlfriend. The last one in is a punk girl with knee-high army boots. She had blue-black hair with purple streaks. What an annoying person, you think. The elevator starts moving. Up one floor, two floors, and three floors, before coming to a shuddering halt. The elevator lights flicker until they go out.

This is going to be a story about a place where everyone has been, though not everyone may remember. You close your sore eyes and let your worries go, drifting off to sleep as the darkness surrounds you. You open your eyes to complete darkness, to your own form of regret. You call out and only hear your own echo respond. Then you start to run, an endless marathon. You start to panic and break out in a cold sweat. Then you start to wonder why the darkness of this place is not devouring you. Could it possibly mean that there's still hope to escape this dark and lonely place?

Who am I?

By Megan McMullen
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

I walk outside feeling like there is nowhere to go,
No one to be with.
Who ever knew I would be alone in this world?
I wish I could change
But that can't be done
I'm just me.
I look around and see this beautiful world right in front of my eyes.
But where do I fit in this picture?
I am a unique person.
I am honest and just don't really care.
My eyes reflect the ocean
Cannot defy my imagination.
It's so creative.
So understanding it would be award-winning to understand me.
But you can't.

Wake up in my bed,
Don’t want to get up, stay warm instead,
So I try to rest and sleep,
But I get awakened yet again by an alarm clock beep,
When I get up I get hit by a blow,
Hooray! Hooray! The first day of snow!
I dress up quick and go downstairs,
Put up my hood so I don’t freeze my hairs,
My ears listen hard when I hear the radio,
No school today, there’s too much snow!
On the table there is a piece of toast,
All buttered up, just like chicken roast!
My dog Sophie bursts through the door,
Dropping water all over the floor.
Then comes my mom a scowl on her face,

Tap N' Die

As I came around the turn on my bike, I saw a patch of broken branches and lost my balance, skidding toward them...

When I look back at that spot now I wonder how I got past all of that. The mountain biking trip started at the high school, driving to Kingdom Trails on Burke Mountain. When we arrived in the car we got to start driving up a steep road that was only for school groups.

Never-ending war

By Caitlyn Bashara
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

Do you have a sibling
who won't leave you alone?
It starts off as you both
are having fun. Then, like a bomb,
your sibling flips out over nothing!
Your parents hear her yelling
and see what's going on.
They see you as the harasser,
then everything turns in to a disaster
For your parents praise your little sibling
and treat you like you're nothing.
It's a never-ending war, you see,
I'll tell you this right now:
You'll always be known as guilty
and receive a big fat frown.

Journey through a fight

By Paige Brigham
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

The hate sits on top of me, covering up all my other feelings.
The anger not wanting to leave.
The strength within me tries hard to push it away, but at the same time I want it to stay.
I see the fight over and over again in my head, it makes me feel madder and madder.
Then I stare for a second, thinking, until I realize the fault is all mine.
The guilt tugs at my shoulder, and the anger is slowly forgotten.
The videos from head are still playing but only show that I am the bad one.

The future

By Jenny Yang
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

What will it be like in the future? Will we face more environmental problems? Or will environmentalists come up with more ideas to save the environment? I have been asking myself these questions for a long time.

As if I were almost there

By Paige Brigham
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

We keep walking, one foot at a time, and I'm not even telling myself to do so. The same sound over and over again. The poor hard crunch of the rocks is almost silent, but still heard.
My mind is quiet, nothing to say. No worries except if we could actually be home, if we could actually call a place home.
I think of relaxing and lying down on every patch of green grass and big bold rock. It makes me want to stop more.
The longer I walk the heavier my bag gets.

Siena Facciolo
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

Leaping through the tangy grass, sweet from purple rains and folded songs. Smiles bouncing and laughter echoing through the mist, cutting into the flowery air. A crinkle in the eyes of a bluebird, a rustle in the smoky stillness, a delicious aroma wafting down the runaway stream -- these make the golden afternoon.

To me, the number nine is just a number. A number greater than one, I will say, but still just a number. It may resemble different things, things that may not make sense, like the number of lives a cat has. I don’t really think it makes sense because who is so obtuse as to kill a cat to see if it comes back to life nine times? No! But in the end there may be special encounters with the number nine that certain people take pleasure in, that do make sense. Perhaps it is the number of puppies your dog gave birth to, or nine years has been your running record for keeping a promise. But if there was no number nine, would that mean there is only eleven years of school? Would the government add a thirteenth grade? There would be no equivalent square route of eighty-one, would there? What about…half of eighteen? I assume we all know that eighteen is an even number. Think of how no nine would affect us. I know I am. I am rationalizing that concept right now.

I have NINE plus 3 friends. I am NINE plus 4 years old. I have NINE minus 7 cats. If I could have any amount of money in the world, it would be NINE thousand dollars. I can count to NINE hundred-NINETY-NINE in French. My cats have NINE lives. Without the number NINE, I would not be able to make these statements, and I would have to use other numbers, such as: 1 (b-o-r-i-n-g!), 2 (a common number), 3 ( there is really nothing wrong with this number, but the prompt is The Number NINE, not The Number Three), 4 (it has a triangle in it. I don't like triangles), and 5 ( it is prime. Prime numbers hurt my brain.) There are other numbers, but I like NINE the best, because it is: odd, composite, not ordinary, loopy, one of the best ages to be, and it has (drum role please...) TWO N's in it!!! WOW it's a special number!

Floating above the blue waves within the sea"s cradle
I dreamt.

Somewhere in this sea, someone's speaking in an arguing voice.
From a crying heart, love can't be born.
Only sadness overflows.

From the fragments of a beautiful wish of the sea,
There are feelings of wanting to be born, embracing light.
In the orange sea, blending into the sunset
the tears of the world sleep.

Was the world being born what called me...?
At the bottom of the deep sea, I could hear a voice.
No matter how dark, or painful place I'm in...

From the fragments of a beautiful wish of the sea,
There are feelings of wanting to be born, opening away from the darkness.
Also in the purple sea, blending into the morning glow
my wishes broke through.

Some day, the source of all fights and sadness
will all vanish. That day will come.
I want to sing with a singular love... in the blue sea...

Someone sweetly spoke out my name.
So they would know of my wish.

By Matt Cecere
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

I have never seen such a brilliant shade of blue. The water shone with the morning light, reflecting the landscape with a vibrant blue-green. I thought I saw something in the water; perhaps it was nothing. But how can I be certain? Nevertheless, it was true solidarity. For once in my life, I was actually truly alone with nature.

The wind was slightly blowing;
the sun gleamed through the bare tree branches.
I was sitting under the trees and wondering
Thinking.
A voice was whispering with the wind.
"Come," it was saying.
I was almost hypnotized.
I whispered back, "Follow?"
So I stood up shaking.
Following.
I stumbled out of the trees.
And I looked up.
Hypnotized, still.
By beauty.
It was perfectly quiet.
And all I could see above was the pure
blue sky.
Clouds were invisible.
And so, I fell back.
Gazing.
Blinking was rare.
I was under a spell.
I have nver seen such a brilliant shade of blue,
As I saw that sky today.

By Maddy Squier-Paine
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

We were all seasick and tired. Even though the crew was all feeling too tired and sick to move another inch, we knew that we had to keep going, and none complained. It was July 16th, 1609, and Captain Champlain had been leading us over this lake for two fortnights now. We were just sailing along like we normally do when someone shouted, "Land!" We all looked over the boat on the starboard side of the boat where he had pointed, and we saw a thin line of land on the horizon.

Losing my balance, I stepped and fell into a fire that burned in my heart and pierced me through to the soul. It was agony but I was numb. It was screaming at me but I was deaf. It was brighter than a thousand suns but I was blind. My senses were gone, but I was still somehow aware of something burning deep, deep within me, burning my body and my spirit. Nothing was happening, but everything was humming with a bright, fierce energy around me that I could not detect. I could not move myself, but I could not tell whether I was moving or not. My mouth was open, but I did not know if I was shrieking in nonexistent pain, because I could not hear myself and I could not feel my vocal cords throb. This was beyond feeling. This was an energy I did not know that pulsed and moved inside me, and swept up into a wave that poured out of me from the deep places in my soul. This was not fire, it was lightning, a sheer bolt of power swelling inside me and gushing from me.

By Gabe Otter
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

Torrents of rain pelted the car like stray bullets. The windshield may as well have been frosted over in an inch of ice, for the steady stream of water pouring down it revealed only a blur of distorted shapes. To the left and right were thick conifers, such deep emerald hues, drinking up the much needed moisture.

I have always grown up hearing about how my nana had always been (and still is) such a great musician. Every once and a while she would even take out her old violin and play, or more often she would play her piano. Sometimes she would play a duet on the piano with my sister. My mom also loves classical music so I always listened to it but never knew it as something someone played. I thought of it, more or less, as pretty sounds. She loved Bach the most but we listened to a variety of composers. We also sometimes listened to jazz which I really loved. We would dance around the kitchen to both the jazz and the classical music. When my sister started to play piano I started to appreciate music even more. I started to develop an ear for music, at least my mom thought so.

By: Luke Hammer
November 16, 2008
My Favorite Place to Go

When I travel, I like to go somewhere I have never been before because the world is an amazing place and I want to learn all about it. I have been to Canada, Europe, Iceland, many US states, and last but not least Kenya and Tanzania. My favorite trip was definitely to Africa. I went to Africa in 2006, my fourth grade year. The trip was not only fun, but it was educational, culturally diverse, and was great for seeing a different biome from the temperate forest.

By Madison Dunn
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

If I was Mother Nature what would this world look like? What would I do to make this world a better place? What would it rain? What color would the grass be? What would the trees be made out of? What would the seasons be called? What would water look like? What would my world look like? Could my answers to these questions make the world a much happier, healthier, and peaceful place for everyone? Read on to find out.

White Water Worries
Danielle Ayer
Main Street Middle School, Grade 8

During the second week of August this summer, my family and a few close friends went on a white water rafting expedition. It was a perfect day and I couldn’t wait to spend time with my family. It was a day I had been anticipating for a long time, but an unexpected, dramatic twist would make it an experience none of us would ever forget.
When we arrived at home base we geared up in wet suits, booties, helmets and paddles. From there we followed our guide to the bus. Our crew shared the bus with a bunch of kids from a summer camp. We later found out that this camp comes every year, and no guide ever wants to be assigned to them because of how rude and rambunctious they are. Our guide expressed how relieved she was to be taking us down the river because we seemed as though we would be a lot of fun. I’m not sure how fun we were but we certainly made her day exciting by the events that were soon to unfold.

The Evil Grandma
The sound of high heels clicked slowly up the street, along with an occasional thump of a cane. The lilac colored shoes making this sound were five inches high, with skinny, pointed heels, perfect for kicking unsuspecting children in the face. Hercream-colored stockings looked cottony and soft. However, they were actually made out of a cotton-like bullet-proof material. Her dress was purple, with flowers on it and starched stiff. The evil grandma’s face had wrinkles etched upon it. Her eyes had a cold look as they gazed around, coming to rest upon a ‘wanted’ sign with her picture on it. Her mouth turned up into a smirk as she read the caption below: “Evil Grandma: wanted for various robberies. If seen, DO NOT approach, but call authorities immediately.”

November 16, 2008
Madeline Murray-Clasen
LOST
I sat on the cool rock while I gazed calmly out over the beautiful view. The colors of the leaves dance as the wind rushed through them. The water in the distance ripples; little waves float over the glossy surface just as mist would rise in the early morning.

“Ruby are you coming?” my uncle called.

“No.” I thought to myself. I wanted to stay here; sit, think and watch.

“Ruby?”

“NO!” I shouted.

“Okay. We're going to explore. We’ll be back in a bit.” He called back.

I just kept staring, enjoying the warm air and the view.

I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there, but when I looked up my family wasn’t back. No uncle, aunt, or cousin. I didn’t panic. No need to. We had been here before and my cousin had said he wanted to go exploring when we returned.

Luke Burton
Main Street Middle School
Grade 8
12/11/08
Haunted

When I tell people that I live right next to a graveyard they get a look of fear on their face. I thought the same thing when I first moved here, but since then I have gotten used to it. Well I wouldn’t say gotten used to, more like learned to ignore it. Anyway, everyday after school I have soccer practice, and after practice the quickest way home is through the graveyard.

Beyond Reach
By: Becky Kilian

Weaving my way through the crowd, I was looking for something. Every time I thought there was a chance, it would just be more people: another obstacle. I knew in my head that there was no purpose for my struggle, but my body kept moving toward my destination.

Cafeteria Food
By: Alyssa S. Barrett
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

What makes people throw up in their mouth and causes bad gas for days? It's the culprit of dirty looks and the topic of many lunch conversations. It fills trash cans rapidly and makes compost buckets overflow. You guessed correctly- cafeteria food.
Cafeteria food has gone from home cooked mashed potatoes to “almost homemade pizza”, which isn't anyones typical definition of homemade at all! Pizza has become frozen crusts, fake cheese and disgusting combinations of meats and veggies.
Here's what I don't understand- Is it really that hard to hire people who know how to cook, and to set a side a little money to buy fresh, yet yummy produce? - No, that part isn't hard at all. The hard part is getting a budget that will give us the money to have healthy food.