 Carmichael Crespo, 10th- Newbury Park, CA
Edward will never know he doesn’t exist. This Edward works in a tall library but doesn’t enjoy reading. Because of what I say after the next comma, he never will. For a facade of a man, one who exists only in words, he has some wisdom. How many stories can be told in four sentences? How many stories are there in all the buildings? All the libraries? I knelt on my carpet and picked a scab off my lip, the blood fell on the page and spelled out these words, this is a run on sentence. Like the urge to be careful in conversation, I find it hard to resist a hangnail. It isn’t the nail which hangs, but the skin. If we can call it a hangnail, can we not call this carefulness a hangstory? Its nearness to its origin decreases the more one indulges it, and the regret becomes clear when the blood starts to flow. How many conversations have remained empty, unfilled with real worlds? How many “How are you” end with an answer the asker and the other will never remember? How many people exist only in moments moved past by all others? Is this what I am to you, a sentence that goes on and on but never enters reality, as you do, am I only these words between commas, if I end a sentence with a period, will I cease to have a voice? I’m here, on this page, but only as long as you read it. I wrote the first paragraph of this page, at least, I would have if I’d’ve realized this sooner. The “real person” will write the conclusion, my time is ending. Goodbye. I suppose I was wrong about Edward, which isn’t truly possible if I did invent him. Where did Edward come from? My mind? His? Perhaps you invent Edward with your thoughts. You decide if he wrote these words, or if I did. You decide how many sentences it takes to tell every story. For a person who exists only in thoughts, you can still see the sun.  Chloe P. 7th - Jersey City, NJ
What do you want to be when you grow up? So many times, my answer to this redundant inquiry has been rearranged and shifted For, I’ve always needed a goal to work towards Something to keep me uplifted Ballerina, I would’ve told you, when I was age five I admired their beauty, how they’re so effortlessly graceful I thought, if I’m not that pretty, surely I’m shameful But quickly, ballet seemed so far from reach I became too aware of my body It made me suffocate I couldn’t breathe So, veterinarian, I decided, when I was age seven Knowing that I could help someone, put my mind at ease Because whatever it was, no one had tried curing my disease But the blood, and the pain, was too much to handle I needed an escape, something that wouldn’t put me in shambles Nine year old me thought that she had made up her mind Comedy, she figured, wouldn’t get her feelings all intertwined But she was quick to realize, a voice like hers wouldn't be heard  Go Orringer, 8th - Oakland, CA
Dear Dannie, it’s spring, wow, Uncanny, about now… Mama says I can go to the prom, can I please have a date? I’m not the epitome of calm, vow not to be irate! Spring come slowly, don’t back down, I am wholly, ready for crown… And though I can’t see you, I know your world And how much you grew… becomes unfurled. Winter is about to leave, it has hurt feelings, Why can’t anyone believe? And shady dealings, I know that I deserve better, so I want you, I’ll keep writing this letter, hoping for new… Give me the crown, and a prom queen dress, I need a gown, did not mean to press. I know you’re busy, I just want to dance. I’m good, is she? Please give me a chance… As Spring creeps in, as the world is anew, Look at within, important as to who You let in, be it me, be it not, It’s no win, if I see, you in rot. Dannie goodbye, hope you have decision, Though I seem shy, you-me is my vision. I’ll see you soon, I’m going to watch some tellie, I crave no boon. Dearly, goodbye, from your Kellie.  Ophelia S. Di Angelo, 8th - Plymouth, CA
I have always been able to see it. The numbers. I remember the day I mentioned them to my mother. At kindergarten I drew this family portrait. Me, my mother (05-15-2012), and my uncle, Donny (10-6-2079). The teachers let us bring a picture to school for a reference. The numbers had always been there, so I drew them too, in a bright green crayon. I thought everyone could see them. Later that day, I took the drawing home, insisting that Donny put it up on the fridge. After my dad left, Donny, being his brother, insisted that he move in and took over the paternal position. Both my mother and Donny were confused by the random numbers that were written above their drawing-selves’ foreheads in green Crayola, though my mother eventually passed it off as my young brain assigning random numbers to the people I knew. We honestly forgot about them. Until 2 years later. On May 15, 2012, my mother was in a car crash. She was on her way to pick me up from school when a drunk driver ran a stop sign and smashed into the driver’s side. A pedestrian who witnessed the accident called 911, while I sat at the school, alone and unknowing. Someone finally contacted Donny, who came to pick me up from school. I don’t remember much, just going to the hospital and seeing my mother, the woman who raised me, hooked up to a bunch of tubes and machines, deathly pale. The doctors told Donny that she was on life support and most likely wouldn’t recover, and I remember that being the only time I had ever seen my uncle cry. Days later, he told the doctors to pull the plug, and I watched my mother take her last breath, my jaw dropping when the green numbers above her head turned black. I tugged on the sleeve of my uncle’s wrinkled sweatshirt, a hard contrast from his usual leather jacket. When I pointed out the change in my mothers’ numbers, it must have clicked in his head that what I was seeing meant something. (4-14-2022) “Hey guys! Long time no see,” The four of us sat down, as the waitress (03-14-2035), came to ask what we wanted to drink. Looking around at the three men sitting at the table, Donny asking Matt about football, and Nick ogling at a boy our age a few tables over (08-26-2087), I realized how lucky I was to have these people. This was the life, and I couldn't be happier. Everything is gonna be great. Boy, if I knew what would happen in the next few hours, I would not have said that. |