Winning Writing
This is the second batch of our Get Creative winners. We will publish some of the remaining entries on a space-available basis over the next several months.
Confessions
…i am repairing my wings with masking tape and popsicle sticks while yours are wrapping around your admirers with gleaming barbed wire teeth sometimes i want to be strangled by you but i set you free because we had to be free we are free right a girl always trusts a murderer it seems and even when she has become an angel fallen mind you she stll wants to whisper her secrets down from her cumulus throne to the one who took it all away you took it all away you took it so very far away so do you want to hear my truths well do you i would rather you hate and be happy than love and writhe in misery enemies strangers best friends i miss you want to hold my hand again maybe pull me up off the concrete i cannot see in the dark yet and the light blinds me lost i am so lost i need a flame to find my way out find my aborted daughters they were all i had and now i do not feel anything except for mourning is it morning the chimes are tolling midnight and i just want you to take a ride in my car because you’ve never been there before i would die for you i died for you i am blue jeans and dragonfly’s wings i am not her i have always been silver not gold never tin sometimes mercury but not her she is just a little girl i am just a little girl so what so there someone stepped on my rose-colored glasses now everything is black and blue was it you we are both saints and sinners now can’t we have a tea-party i just need more tape…
Michelle Williams, 19
Picture Window
Head down, eyes, shut, I am lulled to sleep
By scrambled scrapings resounding;
Eyes now open to brown walls impounding.
Pleading, My eyes search for something to seep
Into my mind and entertain past
Vision’s bright and beautiful hues Revive sleeping senses with the blues,
Greens, reds accompanying fall at last.
But misty fresh air suddenly comes
To save the day. A bright hole in the wall
The source of the wind’s cool call
Infects my gaze. Blessed window that numbs
My bleak works. Your testimony to me singing
That you are the only picture worth hanging.
- Rachel Spencer, Lewiston
The Enemy
Reality is a vicious beast
Fangs
Claws
Roving, bloodthirsty eyes
Lurking in the shadows
Preparing for the pounce
It leaps, lands, grips, devours imagination in one ferocious gulp
It dispels the childhood myth of Santa Claus
It relieves the mind of fruitless wonder
Of awe and splendor
Of joy and surprise
It crashes upon the shores of curiosity,
Leaving in its wake a new wave of feelings Pessimism, cynicism, countless other ‘isms
You long for the days when you knew few words with more than one syllable You wish Never Never Land existed
But your imagination is so withered
It can’t believe in the one destination that could fuel the salvation of your inner child
Your parents are so proud
What a fine young adult they’ve cultivated
You ponder world affairs,
Rather than the choreography of a fairy dance
What happened?
When did you lose the innocence?
And where did it go?
When did the issues become black and white?
When did you stop asking “why?”
The answer escapes you
It was too long ago, you say
Afterall, as violent as reality can be
It is also very deceiving
It comes as a thief in the night
It stole the very element which completed your being
And you didn’t even notice until it was too late.
- Kari Minor, Lakeside
Day
A lone fire burns above this blue atmosphere
Each day it continues to be kindled to life.
A baby robin peeks cautiously out of its nest
As a frosty wind curls around him, teasing his feathers.
He longs for the warmth that seems so far away
He dares to touch his tender foot outside the safe nest
Autumn winds push the small bird backwards into his past
But the little bird does not give, and stretches his wings forward
This wind of time changes and the bird is pushed into the future.
Although the frost threatens with its icy fingers
The little bird shall continue to sail on Outside he shivers, but inside he burns.
- Meredith Ott, St. George’s
One Dimensional Thoughts
By Adam Sweet St. George’s
I am walking down a street flanked on both sides by trees. It’s at dusk and the trees throw shadows over everything. A tune whistles through my mouth. I amble absent-minded into the distance, lost in my own world. I just bought a new pair of walking boots. This is the seventh pair I have owned. The boot’s instructional manual claims they are the most comfortable walking boot in the world. The sole is the key to silky footwear. The boot’s sole is comprised of three layers: air, rubber, and a Jell-O-like substance. The reason I know this is that for my sixth grade science project I dissected a pair of these boots to try and find the secret ingredients. The ingredients remain secret because I was not able to boil the Jell-O-like substance into its basic components. My lab results came up inconclusive. The boots make me feel like I am walking on fog. Unfortunately, the boot’s are magenta. My favorite color is aqua-green, but that color was discontinued. The clerk claimed that next year’s model would have an expanded color range, maybe even aqua-green, but he was wearing a tie with a fish on it, and I think he was lying so I would come back. These boots are too cool. They come with pockets where you can store things like marbles and string. Instead of shoe laces, they have zippers. These zippers come with a lifetime guarantee. The leather is shiny and seamless, like a pair of motorcycle pants on a warm day.
Something comes forward from out of the shadows. My first thought is a tiger, and I get ready to run. When my night vision kicks in I see a heavenly sight. A man is standing there with aqua-green boots! His were the multi-purpose boots with double the zipper strength. They were designed to do anything. It was like discovering my long lost brother. He starts to jog down the road. I instinctively follow him. My feet become raw and blistered. I am wearing walking boots, not jogging boots. He knows this without me saying anything and he slows down to a walk. My sixth sense told me that he was somewhat of a mind-reader. This did not alarm me. I welcomed his probing. Maybe he could understand what makes me tick. Two bicycles appear out of the misty shadows. One was magenta and one was aquagreen. We slide onto the seats of our bicycles and begin to ride. My magenta bike has only one gear. This makes it very tough to ride. Also, its tires are oval and fat, not the ideal shape for the road. The man’s bicycle is a cross-trainer. It has 52 gears. It could scale anything. The tires are perfectly smooth and spherical which reduces friction with the road. His multi-purpose boots are aerodynamic and pierce through the air with ease. Mine are only designed for walking, and they act as a barrier for the wind to hit. Every time we reach a hill he gracefully glides up it using all his gears. I have to pedal as fast as possible before the hill and hope my momentum carries me through. Usually the tires slow me down and I crash in the middle. I stagger up the obstacle huffing and panting with my bike on my back. He always waits for me at the top of the hill and gives me a sip of his hot chocolate upon arrival. We repeat this cycle endlessly; me always crashing and him always waiting for me. This does nothing but frustrate me. Why can’t I do the things he does? He is not any smarter than me. On one of these occasions the zipper in my boot blows out. It is designed for walking, not riding. I sit there laughing at my lifetime guarantee. All this guarantee said was that I could be a walker for the rest of my life. Nothing would ever go wrong if I stayed on the walking path. I find a few edible plants which give me just enough energy to walk up the hillside with my bike. When I reach the top I find a note carved into stone. The man said he had continued on but that he would return to get me.
We ride for many days until we reach the ocean. Our bikes become one with our backs and we begin to swim. The Jell-O-like substance doesn’t float and it continually tries to pull me down. His boots float, and they have mini-fins which keep him on course. His aqua-green boots blend perfectly with the ocean. The magenta things on my feet stick out like a tree on the moon. Sharks are attracted to the magenta and they routinely bite off my appendages. I am constantly reattaching my limbs and fighting off the sharks. This saps all my strength and I repeatedly drown. He always dives to the bottom and revives me with CPR. I begin to sense that he is getting a little impatient with me. Am I holding him back? After one of the drownings he leaves me on the beach and takes off. He has mountains to climb and lakes to swim across. As I watch him disappear into the sunlight I become angry. Why can’t I follow without his help? Sadly, I put on my walking boots and go back to the store. The clerk has a new tie with the space needle on it. I show him the zipper and ask for a refund. He nods his head and apologizes. He told me the boots just aren’t ready for all those activities. I wander over to the display case and ask if I can buy the new multi-purpose boots in aqua-green. The clerk sells them to me but says to make sure and read the instructional book. When I read it there is only one phrase. It said: “To truly break in a pair of multi-function boots takes years of practice.”