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This week, we present responses to the following challenges:
Location. Your character is immersed in an unsettling and unfamiliar setting — a claustrophobic character in a cave, a first-time skier on top of a steep mountain, a city where no one speaks the character’s language. Describe the environment and the character’s reaction to it in a short scene.
Babysitting. You’re babysitting two rambunctious children who have finally gone to bed. You’re exhausted and start drifting off to sleep on the couch when you hear a strange sound. What is it? What do you do?
Prompt: Location
The City That’s Alive
By Lauren Hall
Age 13, Hanover
I stand at the backbone of the arching neon city, the whole world spread at the tips of my fingers. Cryptic buildings soar — sleek, seamless spires of silver rooted in the ground like the gnarled ribs of a Herculean beast. The trembling energy that weaves throughout this city like a plait of pure euphoria charges through my blood, through my muscles, uniting every fiber and cell in my body. Heartbeats thunder through my ears, echoing across every fragmented nuance of my mind. Tremors convulse inside the ceramic sculpture of my bones, and hairline fractures spiral downward, downward, downward toward my curled toes pressing against my sneakers.
Indeed, this city howls and growls, while its humid, clammy breath presses against my flushed skin. Cerulean swirls wisp through the thick air like heavy curtains flowing down from a tall, elegant glass window in a regal palace.
The people, like the city, dance with a flowing, graceful energy that I can only wish to possess. They have easy smiles, glowing, bright eyes that glitter magically, and twirling fingers that flit in the air like leaves. It seems that they will never sleep and that they are in an infinite carnival. When I look closely, I can see only delight and freedom in their luminous faces.
I am there right next to them, but somehow a million light years away. I stand at the backbone of this arching neon city, the whole world spread at the tips of my fingers. I feel alive in this living city.
Heights
By Madelyn Fredella
Age 15, Newbury, Vt.
She tells herself every day that she’ll conquer her fear.
She gets a muffin at the small coffee shop on the corner and stares up as she takes a bite — not up at the sky, but at the tall glass building that blocks out the sun. It’s almost a tradition for her. Passersby stare at the strange girl who stops and stares at the skyscraper. And she takes a step, toward where the towering building was built from the solid earth, where it’s safe. She walks with determination to the double doors that grant access to her biggest fear. She pauses only to throw out her half-eaten muffin in a small trash can. Large, heavy doors are pushed open to reveal a vast room full of bustling strangers. She makes her way over to the elevator doors and hits the button. The shiny silver doors open quickly, and after a slight hesitation, she steps in. The top floor button lights up as her shaky fingers press it. The doors close and she’s alone. She closes her eyes. The elevator rises … and rises, and rises, and rises.
The ding of the elevator doors opening startles her. Her eyes fly open and she steps out, feet unsteady and hands shaking. She wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans. Gray eyes fearfully stare straight ahead, through the giant glass window and out to the sprawling city. Her mouth goes dry, and she has to remind herself how to breathe. In and out. Her heart sounds as if it will burst from her chest. She is absolutely terrified of heights like these.
But she’d made it, and the view now was absolutely amazing.
Diving Board
By Sarah Hall
Age 13, Hanover
Looking down with a horrified gulp, I realize how far up I am. The muffled sounds of the pool are blocked out by the sound of my thumping heartbeat. Why did I even agree to this? Shifting uneasily and picking at my one-piece bathing suit, I bide my time. A long line stretches behind the diving board, and a group of teenagers are getting annoyed at the holdup. They jeer, but I ignore their protests. The unnaturally blue water ripples beneath me while a few younger kids nearby do flips into the water. Their screams and screeches distract me for a while, but I soon have to return to the problem at hand.
My friends are standing across the pool, arms crossed, their towels wound over their torsos. I wonder if they would care if I chickened out, but I’d promised I would be able to do this. The strong scent of chlorine wafts through the air, making me woozy and light-headed.
An annoyed lifeguard tweets his whistle at me. “Get off the diving board! You’re holding up the line!” I nervously wipe my increasingly sweaty palms across my bathing suit, my head pounding and thoughts darting through my head like ping pong balls. Do I do it? Do I not do it? Do I do it? Shivering, I bite my lip and stare wide-eyed at the water.
Suddenly, a loud blare from the speakers scares me. I clumsily stumble over the scratchy surface and tumble off. My elbow gets knocked on the board and my stomach is the first to make contact with the water, with a monstrous belly-flop that sends out a wave so big it knocks over several people playing tag nearby.
Gingerly touching my stinging belly, I sputter for air when I resurface. Loud cheers come from the other side of the pool, and I can make out my friends laughing out of my clenched eyelids. Cheeks bright red from embarrassment, I haul myself out with one of those metal ladders. I trudge over to where my friends are standing. I glare at them, but soon break into laughter when I realize how funny the situation probably looked.
No matter how hilarious it was, I definitely won’t be going near another diving board anytime soon!
Prompt: Babysitting
They weren’t normal children
By Samara Spelman
Age 15, Thetford
The Kendalls were an interesting family, to say the least. The parents were about as normal as they come, but there was just something different about their children. I had been their babysitter for about a year, but they only needed me once or twice a month when Mr. and Mrs. Kendall went out for a date night. They paid me well, so I kept quiet about how awful their children were when they were out of the house.
The two children had finally fallen asleep after an hour of me trying to wrestle them into their beds. They had so much energy and were not in the mood to fall asleep, but I’d started playing a podcast on my phone for them to listen to. They were finally able to lie down in their beds, listening intently to the story, and eventually they both drifted off into a state resembling sleep.
I turned off the podcast, which was actually quite an interesting one about small-town murders, and moved into my usual routine of reorganizing the house the two kids had trashed (and scrubbing the crayon off the walls). Once the house was spotless, I was able to kick back on the couch with my phone and listen to some quiet music.
As soon as I started drifting off myself, to the lilting voice of Troye Sivan, a noise startled me back into full consciousness. My first thought was that the parents were home, but that wasn’t possible — they were viewing a Broadway show tonight (lucky!) and wouldn’t be back until much later at night; New York City was an hour away and they had chosen to see the last show of the night instead of a matinee.
As soon as I got my wits about me enough to organize my thoughts and try to discern if the noise was from inside or outside the house, the noise squealed to a stop…
Read the complete story at youngwritersproject.org/node/26025.