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This week, we present responses to the following challenges: Photo-3 Thinking. What is the girl in this illustration thinking? Write her internal dialogue. Is she looking at you as she thinks? Or is she focused on something or someone else? And general writing.
Prompt: Photo-3 Thinking
People-watching
By Lauren Wright
Age 16, Bradford, Vt.
She sits alone on a faded wooden bench, afar from the green. She is watching the people all around her in the same place, but all in a different moment, mood, and world.
She watches a little girl cling to her mother, full of love, yet to be touched by the world. Her mother wraps her in security to keep the sparkle in her vivid eyes. She watches a middle-aged man teasing his dog, making him jump and run to find a toy that was never thrown. The man laughs while the dog climbs up to him, tongue hanging long from his mouth. In the distance a young couple walks silently with tension between them. A squirrel watches from the base of a tree, sprinting up to the branches when two little kids run by laughing, trying to catch one another. She watches teenage boys wrestle in the grass, while girls hover above, giggling, telling them to stop but knowing it won’t result in much. A man sits at another bench near the playground with his arm around a young woman. They watch their son make friends in seconds, running through the playground.
She sits in awe of the billions of people of the world, all in a different place than the person sitting right next to them; in awe of all the different people we see every day, that we might never see again, or happen to without remembering our previous meeting; in awe of how the sun sets and rises every day, bringing new colors to the sky, and of the people together in this park, each living different lives.
The House
By Paige Brammell
Age 14, Bradford, Vt.
She stares at the empty house, smiling at the memories that flood her mind.
She grew up in this house, with the rusted swing set where she spent most of her afternoons and the abandoned tree house her father had built for her and her brother. Years ago, she’d had to leave all her memories and friends behind. She remembers driving away and looking out the window as they passed by what she loved most.
She unlocks the door to the large house and nostalgic smells fill her nose. Her young daughter runs past her in her snow clothes, as she had done when she was her age. A feeling of happiness washes over her. Knowing that her children will get to grow up in the same house as she did, without leaving abruptly, makes her happy and able to rest easy. She is ready to relive her old memories and make new ones with a family of her own.
Prompt: General
Sweet Dreams
By Eden Anne Bauer
Age 14, Hanover
When the autumn breeze blows leaves away, I know it’s time to go.
When the sun disappears behind screens of rain, I know it’s time to go.
When the first snow falls and the ground freezes o’er, I know it’s time to go.
When people pick pumpkins and rejoice in the harvest, I know it’s time to go.
When people gather firewood and find their coats and mittens, I know it’s time to go.
When people sing carols in early anticipation, I know it’s time to go.
When I feel the call of those before me and yawn in mimicked response, I know it’s time to go.
So I curl up in my cozy burrow, down under the freezing dirt and snow.
I sleep, dreaming sweetly, through the time people sing and feast and have winter break,
and oh, who knows? I’d rather hibernate!
When the sun shines again and melts the snow, my paws will dig and dig.
When the birds fly back home and serenade the spring, I’ll yearn for acorns and new grass.
When I feel the call of warmer weather and finally come out of the ground, I’ll rejoice in my world.
But until then, please let me sleep.
If someone forgets, and knocks on my door,
please remind them to not disturb my sweet dreams until the spring.
Stars and Snowflakes
By Alaina Jarrett
Age 14, Bradford, Vt.
The sky was clear, revealing billions of stars.
The moon was out in its full glory, shining bright
and casting its light on the snow below to make it glitter and sparkle.
It seemed as if it glowed.
I got out of the car, boots sinking in the snow,
to be greeted by the crisp, cold, winter night air.
“Put on your jacket, you’re going to get cold,” you said,
for I was wearing only my basketball uniform.
“No, I won’t,” was my reply. You sighed and went inside.
All around me, snowflakes fell.
But these weren’t normal snowflakes. They weren’t normal at all.
Huge snowflakes fell, like little upside-down umbrellas.
I reached out a hand, letting one land gracefully on my awaiting palm.
Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t just one big snowflake —
it was hundreds of little snowflakes clustered together to create a larger one.
It was as if all those little white flakes of snow were lonely and scared.
Instead of descending alone, they’d connected and gathered together,
taking comfort in knowing that when they landed,
they landed forever in the company of each other.