 Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Many thanks to the students of Ms. Runyan's 8th grade class from Atla ntic Middle School in Iowa. They sent in their very fabulous and creative poems based on the following picture. Writing magazine published the photo as part of its September 1,000 Words feature. Great job!
Nothing Left
Touching the sun,
Feeling like you're controlling the world,
But it's all backwards.
Black is white,
White is black.
Nothing seems the same.
You’ll never feel the same,
You won't feel like anything is working.
Nothing works,
But yet it all works,
And you just don't know it yet.
--Derek Von Seggern
What?
God,
Is that you?
Is that the star the angels sent down?
Are you sending a message?
Why are you playing with my mind?
Is this a sign?
God, who are you trying to attract?
Am I messed up?
Am I just crazy?
Is this the end of the world?
Whom am I kidding?
I’m just a teenager from earth
Without a darn clue.
--Anthony Robinson
Phenomena
The eclipse so high,
Just hanging in the sky.
Trying to capture its strength,
For as long as its length.
Changing the world,
If only for a moment.
Making white look like black,
But in minutes its back.
Taking your hand from the sky,
As the world passes by
When you came inside
The outside world died.
You get back to your job,
As your heart starts to throb.
The phenomenon was forgotten.
—Paige Kennon
The Black Diamond
The white hand glows bright.
The black diamond burns all night.
They join day and night.
--Malachi Wickman
The Dark World
There was a young lad,
Who indeed was very sad.
The world was so dark and cruel,
And that my friend is not cool.
The boy wanted some color back,
In the town that was certainly whack.
After many years,
And many tears,
The color was back,
And that ...
Is that.
--Sara Forster
Seeking the Darkness
Looking up at the evening sky,
I thought I saw it way up high.
The darkness swallowing up the sun,
As though the light had been shunned.
It was frightening there at first,
But soon I had such an insatiable thirst!
The thirst for darkness, to disappear,
Away from the light, there was nothing to fear.
I wondered vaguely, maybe if,
I could reach there, up there,
To make it shift.
So that I wouldn't be so tempted to feel,
That black darkness touch,
That shrouds like a veil.
So engrossed in my thoughts was I,
I did not take heed of those clouds in the sky,
They poured their black raindrops in their wake,
So that the ground below me seemed of a lake.
But this lake was dark, fearsome and swift,
But I soon felt that it was a gift.
I wanted to jump, to fall through the dark,
To reach the inner depths of the black water’s heart.
I must step back, away I must race!
But of course, the darkness held me in place.
Against such beauty, all reasoning is gone,
My twilight kingdom, I've waited so long.
You held out your arms to welcome me,
Here I must stay, I could never leave.
And when I reached for that cold embrace,
I felt the darkness enveloping my face.
My eyes and hair turned midnight black,
My skin so cold not a diamond could crack.
Quite suddenly the sky shone a white light,
Bright as the gods, to banish the night.
Angelic figures descended the skies.
The heavenly fighters shining up high.
A battle cry tore from my lips,
I drew the sword that hung at my hips.
I leaped in the air to fight my light foes.
We fought for an eternity,
Despite my everlasting woes.
At last the sky was black and cold,
I was left standing in battle throes.
I smirked heavily when the twilight,
As brave as it be,
Looked as one surprised might,
And welcomed me.
But forever deep down,
In my sorrowful heart,
I knew that light wore a crown,
Just like the dark.
And evermore, even after the world's ended.
Light and darkness shall always be contended.
But I would fight,
I would not take flight.
Just like those of you,
Who battle for light.
--Mistery Fleagle
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Thursday, May 10, 2007
In the April/May issue of Writing Magazine, we published the picture below and asked you to write a story about it. The following is one of the many 1,000 Word interpretations we received. Enjoy! |
Venture Onto Land
- by James Mowery, Grade 12
Hi my name is Termitimous but you can call me Termite... Termite the turtle. I live in the Pacific Ocean just off the coast of Hunnington. I am here today to tell you about my journey onto land.
One sunny day I decided to work on my backstroke, as I always do on beautiful days. On my way to the whirlpool I felt a sharp, excruciating pain dart down my left leg. This had never happened before. I began to ponder the idea of this pain that was enveloping my leg. I decided to swim to the surface. Maybe some fresh air will do the trick, I thought.
As I popped my head from the brim of the water, the pain got worse. It was then that I remembered that I forgot to eat my breakfast. It is too far to go home and eat, I thought. I'll just look around and maybe I'll find some food somewhere.
The pain began to creep to my right leg, my body went tense with every pulse of blood that ran through my veins.
Land, I've never been on land before but I have to rid myself of this abhorring pain in my legs. Just for a few seconds, long enough to acquire some food and stretch. Then I'll be on my way back to the whirlpool swimming laps. Okay stay calm pull yourself together; you'll be just fine.
What was that? A shadow just dashed by me on my right side. The pain is growing. I have to eat but... the sun disappeared as a dark figure snarled above me. The shadow of the beast seemed to devour the sun's rays as it began to inch its way towards me.
The pain is no longer an issue. It is as if it took flight. My teeth began to chatter as I tried to utter my last words. ...
Then the beast spoke. His voice struck fear into my body. It smashed my dignity, digesting away at my thoughts. He told me that I should have stayed in the water. My body cringed with every syllable he spoke. The fear is growing. I began to sob, praying for him to let me live.
"I'm not going to kill you," said the beast. "I'm here to protect you. There are many dangers out here. This is no place for a turtle,"
He let me go.
Together, we walked down the beach for a while, conversing about the differences between our worlds. The time grew late and I had to depart from his presence. He said goodbye as I jumped into the water.
That was the day I discovered how fortunate I am to have the ability to live in two worlds.
Goodnight.
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Tuesday, May 08, 2007
In the April/May issue of Writing Magazine, we published the picture below and asked you to write a story about it. The following is one of the many 1,000 Word interpretations we received. Enjoy!
The Journey
- Allison Bowling, Grade 7
As the turtle slowly pulled its body over the wet sand, seagulls circled above, ready to swoop in. The small creature struggled to reach the safety of the sand dunes where the woods left the vast sea behind, a memory soon to be forgotten.
For hundreds of years turtles have crossed this path hoping to make the journey across the isolated island. But crabs and seagulls swarm the path knowing that the unlucky turtles will come this way. Few ever leave the island.
As the small turtle slowly crawled across the beach, sand sticking to his shell, crabs began to gather preparing for an easy meal. When the turtle realized that his end was near, he gathered up his last bit of energy and safely made it to the forest.
He slowly made his way through the short patch of trees, leaving the sand behind. Over the next three hours the turtle covered the distance of the land. At once when coming to the end of the stretch of trees he stopped to ponder whether he should leave the safety of trees where the predators dare not enter.
Reluctantly but steadily the small creature pulled himself onto the sand and across the beach. As the seagulls began to swarm and crabs began to gather, the turtle pushed himself on, soon reaching the wet, foamy sand.
As the tide slowly carried the turtle back to sea, other turtles began their journey, hopeful they could make it too.
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Wednesday, May 02, 2007
 Thank you to all the students who wrote conclusions to "The Pirate's Life For Me", a story that was featured in READ Magazine (Issue Date April 27, 2007).
Just wanted to let you know that, yes! we got them! And we'll be posting the best of them next week, right here on WORD. But that's not all...
 We have also received many "1,000 Words" interpretations concerning a certain turtle that escaped from a picture frame! This image, of course, was in the April/May issue of Writing magazine and we will be posting the best of those next week as well!
Next week's shaping up to be big in the world of student writing! You're not gonna want to miss this!
So come on back! Every day next week, starting Monday, May 7 all the way through to Friday, May 11! It's pirates and turtles week here at WORD!
Who loves, ya baby?*
*Editor's Note: Please don't sue us, Telly Savalas.
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Monday, February 26, 2007
According to a well-worn proverb, a picture is worth a thousand words. In the February/March 2007 issue of Writing, we published a photograph in our "1,000 Words" column and asked you to write a dialogue in which you give Oscar--the celebrated mascot of the annual Academy Awards--some good advice on what to wear and how to be an examplary host. Here's one of our favorites. 
Oscar
A ten minute play by Doug Dyszlewski, Grade 8
Ten minutes before Oscar Awards start. Doug and Oscar are talking before the Awards Ceremony begins.
Producer: (Walks over to Oscar) You're on in ten minutes.
Doug: Are you almost ready?
Oscar: Yes, I have been ready for a while.
Doug: Okay, but just keep in mind that this year is going to be even bigger than last year so I hope you're prepared.
Oscar: You have said that every single year since I have done this, yet it's always the same.
Doug: I know, I know, I just don't want you to mess up or anything.
Oscar: Let me ask you this question: how could I possibly mess up if I just am standing there? I don't do anything, honestly it's really not that hard.
Doug: The reason we fired the guy before you was because he messed up. He fell on the an award winner and broke his leg. Would you want that to happen to you?
Oscar: No, but...
Doug: Don't forget we want you to look good, so if you move and scratch yourself or something like that when you're up on stage, you will be fired in a second.
Oscar: Okay then keep that blow dryer on me if you want me to look good.
Doug: This blow drying really doesn't do anything for you. It just makes me look like I'm doing something in the hustle and bustle here. Everyone is always doing something right before the Awards and I'll get yelled at if I'm not working, so...
Oscar: Well fine then, make me look better in some other way. I don't want either of us to be fired.
Doug: Okay then, I'll go get another gold suit to make you look newer. The suit that you have on is a bit wrinkled.
Oscar: Yes, that's perfect, another suit.
(Doug runs over to get another suit and then puts it on Oscar.)
Oscar: How do I look? Good right?
Doug: Perfect.
Oscar: There's still something missing...
Doug: There really isn't anything else to do.
Oscar: Okay.
Producer: (Walks over again.) You're on in three minutes.
Oscar: Wow, seven minutes have gone by fast!
Doug: It's fine... don't get stressed.
Oscar: Well when you told me how I could mess up... I'm getting nervous.
Doug: Now come on... you've been doing this for four years.
Oscar: I know but I never really thought of what could go wrong.
Doug: Nah, you'll do fine. I've made you look your best, as always.
Oscar: Okay, I think I...
Producer: (Walks over again.) One minute...
Doug: Okay, you're ready. Just go out there and look your best. That's all you have to do and you'll shine like the stars.
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Friday, February 09, 2007
According to a well-worn proverb, a picture is worth a thousand words. In the January 2007 issue of Writing, we published a photograph this photograph in our "I,000 Words" column and asked you: What memory from your own life does this photograph prompt? What places or persons does it remind you of? Write a narrative essay that begins with the words "I remember ..."
OK, so the following piece doesn't officially comply with the above directions. It's a work of short fiction, not a narrative essay. Still, we think it's good writing and a poignant story. It comes to us from Catherine Hass, a 12th grader who is homeschooled in Pennsylvania.
Contrast
Carl was enraged. He walked up to the one-hour photo booth, and stood on line. He had been waiting for these pictures for two days. Apparently no one had taught John, the new employee at Quick Stop, how to use the machine, and they were backed up.
Carl was waiting for the pictures of his apartment building, now burnt and crumbly, for insurance purposes. "How," he thought, "could anyone be so stupid as to leave their space heater blazing so closely to their curtains? Of course this guy had to be right next to me, and the whole floor caught like wildfire."
Fortunately for everyone else, the fire was put out quickly. "Not quickly enough," Carl continued to rant silently. "Because here I am two days later, waiting for the pictures of my destroyed home. The worst part about it is that I’m stuck at my sister’s house for the next millennium."
Finally it was his turn. Carl walked up to the counter, got his delayed pictures, paid the ridiculously pricey amount, and got out of there as quickly as possible.
Once in his car, Carl ripped open the sloppily packaged photos and began leafing through them. They were mostly blurry renditions of the building, tall, looking as though it had been punched right in the stomach with a big charcoal fist. The last few pictures had been taken later to finish the roll; the pictures were of nothing more than the floor, maybe one or two of the leg of a table, or the tip of Carl’s shoe. He sighed heavily and threw them on to the passenger seat, not noticing that one of the pictures removed itself from the others, and flew to floor, eventually resting on its stomach.
When he started his car, the tiny white rectangle on the floor of his car caught his eye. Puzzled, Carl picked it up. At first he was disappointed; he thought that perhaps a lost memory was waiting to be discovered, but it was only another photograph of the day that he was trying hard to forget. He almost threw it back down to the floor, but then he actually surveyed the whole picture.
This one, he remembered, had been a shot he took farther away from the scene to show the last stretch of the extinction of the fire. Because he was so far away, and it was a disposable camera that did not allow him to zoom in, he had accidentally captured a moment in someone else’s life.
The bottom right corner of the picture was illuminated with joy. Inside a café, it was someone’s birthday. A woman was blowing out her candles, and a man stood grinning next to her.
Carl felt as though he was unrightfully looking into someone else’s life. Little did this woman know, two days ago on her birthday, that she had been caught making her wish and growing a little bit older.
Six months later, Carl ended up moving back into his refurbished apartment building. He had his photograph enlarged and placed it in the center of his apartment. It hung there, silently reminding him that wherever there is pain and discomfort, there is also a small corner of happiness glowing somewhere close by.
Editor's Note: What a great last sentence. What are some other sentences and images that stand out in this piece for you?
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Wednesday, January 24, 2007
According to a well-worn proverb, a picture is worth a thousand words. In the January 2007 issue of Writing, we  published a photograph this photograph in our "I,000 Words" column and asked you: What memory from your own life does this photograph prompt? What places or persons does it remind you of? Write a narrative essay that begins with the words "I remember ..."
Here is one of our favorite submissions. It comes to us from Rachel Ourand, a junior at Huntingtown High School in Huntingtown, MD. When she looked at this image, she was reminded of a photograph on the fourth page of her family album—a picture of a rusty, blue car with the seat pushed up to reveal a melted lunch box on the floor.
I remember it was the first day back from spring break. Aunt Kathy decided to take me and Mandy out to breakfast at Denny’s for the “special occasion” as she liked to call it.
I was in a blue dress and Mandy in jeans and a t-shirt. She was going to middle school which is so much superior to my second-grade self. It was OK with me though. I loved Mandy and thought it made her that much cooler. I had a middle schooler to look out for me. What a cousin she was!
So I got up and put my pink backpack on the kitchen table. I started the check list.
“Pencil?” My aunt asked.
“Check.” I answered.
“Book?” She always had to make sure everything is in place.
“Check.”
“Paper?”
“Check.”
“Folder?”
“Check”
“OK, I think that’s it. Go put your shoes on. And where is Mandy? Mandy!” She screamed.
“Wait! My lunch!” I ran to the fridge.
“Oh, yes. How could we ever forget Rachel’s lunch?!” My aunt laughed.
It was a very special lunch. I had especially made it the night before. I had a ham and cheese sandwich on “white bread” (at that age I didn’t really know the difference between whole wheat bread and regular bread I just liked to argue that “white bread” was the good kind), a Hi-C juice box, an apple, and lastly a fruit-roll-up. Last time we had fruit-roll-ups my brother, Mike, and Mandy had eaten them all before I got any and fruit-roll-ups were my favorite! So I made sure that the next time we bought them I got one—the first one to be exact.
Anyway I set my lunch in my back pack in front of all my books because I didn’t want it to get squished. Mandy came in ready to go and I put on my shoes and tied them. Not too bad may I say for a six year old, double knots and all; I did it on my own. We went outside and walked to the old rusty blue car. I got in the back and set my back pack beside me so as not to hurt my lunch. Then Mandy got in the passenger side and handed me her books. Man! Those things were heavy! I put them on the seat and set my book bag on top of them.
“OK, everyone have everything?” my aunt asked.
“Yes, Mom. Now, let’s go!” Mandy said.
“Rachel, do you have . . .”
“Yes, Aunt Kathy. I have underwear.” Man, forget to put on underwear once in your life and they never let it go. I mean it was kindergarten and they had rushed me out of the house even though I kept trying to tell them I didn’t have any on under my dress.
Aunt Kathy started the car and off we went. It was a bright and sunny morning and I keep looking out through the car window for people but I never found any.
Next thing I knew the car broke down, not even two minutes from the Denny’s. All we had to do is turn the corner and it was on our left. I could see the end of the road and the turn! The car had enough power for my aunt to pull into someone’s drive way. It was the last house in the neighborhood.
My aunt told us to stay in the car and she would go and knock on the door to use the phone and call my uncle. I looked out the windows at the neighborhood and everything was quiet. It was like one of those picture perfect neighborhoods with the ball in the lush green mowed lawns and all the cars neatly parked in their driveways. The only thing missing was the people.
The floor of the car started to get warm and I could feel the heat through my shoes.
“Mandy?” I asked.
“Hmm,” she replied.
“Mandy, is the floor hot to you? Because I can feel it and it’s hot.”
“Yeah, it is getting warm.” At this point we both were looking at the floor of the car trying to figure out why it was so hot.
“Get out the car! Get out the car!” My aunt screamed at us. I looked up and there was smoke coming out from the hood.
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Thursday, December 21, 2006
The following poem is an interpretation of the 1,000 Words image in the November/ December, 2006 issue of Writing Magazine.
One Lonely Snowman
- Poem by Emily Deason, Grade 8
One lonely snowman
standing alone on a peak
has he been there one day?
or maybe a whole week
One lonely snowman
with no one else around
is he able to talk
or can he make no sound
One lonely snowman
did he just come to be?
does it make him sad when
he looks down and sees no feet
One lonely snowman
I ask, are you cold?
does your scarf keep you warm
until you are very old
One lonely snowman
taking in the day
hopefully he'll enjoy it
until he slowly melts away
This is the 11th piece of student writing in a string of two straight weeks of student writing!
Check back every single day 'til Christmas to see if your writing gets posted
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Saturday, December 16, 2006
The following story is an interpretation of the 1,000 Words image in the October, 2006 issue of Writing Magazine.
The Ingul Jungle
- Story by Jordi Menard
“Please try not ruin the house tonight you two,” said Brittany and Brooke’s mother. The two were constantly getting into trouble and wrecking the house.
“Okay,” said Brooke in a tone that meant, “sure, whatever.” Their parents were going to a party that night and would be gone from 5:30 to about 11:30 which, to the two girls, meant six hours of unsupervised fun.
Once their parents left, Brittany and Brooke immediately started discussing what they were going to do. Most of their ideas involved at least a 75% chance of something being broken. Unnoticed, the ghost of the house, Joe, appeared and said, “Hello,” startling both girls. “I see you are trying to find something to do.” He had assisted the girls in most of their adventures. “You might be interested in these,” he said, holding out two pieces of paper and a compass.
The girls took the items, and he vanished.
One paper was a page out of some very old book describing a green crystal orb that could repair anything. The other paper was a map of their house with an X in the middle of the living room. The compass didn’t point north, but it seemed to be pointing to the spot in the living room where the X was on the map. The girls went to that spot. All of a sudden, Brittany said, “Look at this!” indicating a pattern on the wood that looked like an X.
“I’ll get the shovel,” suggested Brooke, running off to the garage. When she came back, they started digging. After about three minutes, they broke through. On the other side seemed to be a thick jungle. Fifteen minutes later, the hole was big enough for Brooke to fit through, so she went in with the flashlight while Brittany made the hole bigger. Once in the hole, Brooke saw a light through the trees and decided to go see what it was.
Before she could reach the light, a bunch of short, pale skinned, big-eyed people jumped out at her. Before they could get to her though, she accidentally shined the flashlight at a few of them, and they cowered, covering their eyes. Another one ran up to her and knocked the flashlight out of her hand before it could be used any more.
At that moment, Brittany arrived and was also attacked, which caused her to drop the compass Joe had given her. As soon as the natives saw the compass, they stopped attacking the girls and asked them where the got the compass. They told the natives about Joe, and the natives said that Joe acted as their shaman, and a friend of his is a friend of theirs. They told the girls that they were Ingul and said they were sorry for attacking them like that. The Ingul then led them to the treasure to make up for attacking them. After twenty minutes of walking, Brittany asked, “How much farther is it?”
“Chest there,” said the leader of the Ingul, pointing to a previously unseen pedestal with a small chest on it. Brooke and Brittany ran to the box, but it was locked. It was then that they noticed a key next to the box. The key didn’t work on the box, but Brooke recognized that the shape of the key was the same shape as what she had previously thought was just an unusual hole in the attic floor.
The Ingul lead them back out, and the girls used the key on the hole in the attic. A compartment in the wall opened, revealing another key. This key worked on the chest. In the chest was a glowing green orb. The orb rose from Brittany’s hands, and there was a sudden, bright flash of light. Once the light dimmed, the girls realized the house was totally clean and, when they went downstairs, they noticed that even the hole in the living room was gone!
They looked at the clock and, with horror, realized that it was already 11:15! “Let’s keep tonight a secret, okay?” said Brittany, already moving to hide the chest, keys, and papers.
“Agreed,” stated Brooke, going to help her sister hide the objects.
When their parents returned, they were extremely amazed that the house was still “in one piece,” as their father put it. “What were you two doing the whole time we were gone?” he asked.
“We were watching TV most of the time,” said Brooke, hoping her dad wouldn’t see the key hanging out of Brittany’s pocket.
This is the 6th piece of student writing in a string of two straight weeks of student writing!
Check back every single day 'til Christmas to see if your writing gets posted!
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Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The following story is an interpretation of the 1,000 Words image in the November/December, 2006 issue of Writing Magazine.
Soar
- Story by Ashley Dahl, Grade 12
At first, it was an uneasy feeling, climbing to the tops of the cliffs to build the snowman. But it seemed the farther they climbed, the closer they grew to accomplishing something. Their father had taken the same journey every year until the cold claimed his life. Now his children carried on the tradition - no longer for bragging rights, but now as a yearly memorial to their dear departed father.
The brother and the sister fell to their knees, the sound of the snow crunching beneath them barely reaching their ears over the whistling winds. They smiled sadly at each other before digging their mitten-covered hands into the snow and forming it into a snowman. They started small, with a one-foot snowman, but as their father's voice filled their heads and as his spirit warmed their hearts, they worked furiously.
Soon the snowman stood taller than either of them. The brother and the sister climbed to their feet and stood beside it, their tears on their cheeks frosty and chilling. "I miss him." The sister whispered, running her hand over the uneven lumps on the snowman. Her brother nodded. He dropped his backpack and dug through it, handing his sister the squares of coal for the snowman's buttons and face, and the carrot for his nose. The sticks for the arms he kept.
When his sister was done giving the frigid snowman a warm smile, the brother gave the snowman his arms. The arms stuck straight out as if he were flying.
The sister pulled the final item from the bag: their father's scarf. Her brother helped her wrap it around the snowman's neck before they held each other.
"Soar, Dad, soar." She whispered.
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Friday, November 17, 2006
The following story is an interpretation of the 1,000 Words image in the October, 2006 issue of Writing Magazine.
A Forest Under The Floor
Story by Veronica Brown, Grade 6
"Come on Sara!" Yelled Alli. "If you don't hurry up and come, I will go to the park without you! ... Sara!" Alli ran into the living room only to find her sister's favorite fantasy book, her sister's journal, grape juice, a shovel, and a hole in the floor surrounded by broken floorboards. Alli peered in the hole. She saw a forest. It was about 5 feet tall and looked as if it went on forever. "Sara! Sara!" Alli called. Alli ran to the garage and grabbed a long piece of rope and hurried back to the living room. She tied one end of the rope to a chair and the other end to her waist. After taking a deep breath Alli jumped into the forest. Alli searched the greenery for Sara. "Sara!" Alli's voice quivered even though she was the older sister.
"Alli!" The whisper came out of nowhere.
"Sara? Is that you?" whispered Alli.
"Shh! Come look at this!" Sara shined the flashlight at a glimmer of bronze in what appeared to be an enormous web. "It's a dragon!" mouthed Sara. Alli scoffed but upon further inspection, she realized it looked exactly like a dragon. "We have to save it, Alli! We have to bring him home!"
"Yeah, we'll bring home a dragon and walk him around on a leash!" scoffed Alli.
"Please!" Sara begged. Alli realized she had clearly lost this argument.
"Fine! Just hurry up! When you grab him grab onto me so I can reel us up." Sara leaned into the web and grabbed the dragon and then Alli. As Alli began to walk towards the hole a 3 foot long and 2 foot tall spider began running towards them.
"AAAAAHHH" both girls yelled. They ran and ran and finally climbed out of the hole. They quickly boarded it up. Sara promptly made a bed for the dragon in her room. Sara and the dragon nodded off to sleep.
Alli couldn't sleep. Something in the forest was moaning. After listening to the moans for several hours, Alli got out of bed and tip-toed into the living room. Alli yanked up the floorboards and peeked into the forest. There sat a dragon. It looked identical to the one Sara had saved except larger.
"Hello." whispered Alli. The dragon sniffed and looked up. "Was that your baby we saved?" The dragon gave Alli a meaningful look that Alli interpreted as a yes. "Hold on." Alli said. She ran into Sara's bedroom, being careful not to wake her. She rushed back to the hole and lowered in the dragon. "Good luck" said Alli. Alli carefully sealed up the floor and walked back to her room. She would need rest if she was going to explain to Sara what happened tomorrow morning.
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Thursday, October 19, 2006
The following stories are brilliant interpretations of the 1,000 Words image in the September, 2006 issue of Writing Magazine. This concludes our Froggy contest. Coming soon, more of your outstanding 1,000 Words interpretations from the October issue!
Fred the Frog - Coward or Warlord?
- Story by Alexandra Sobczak, Grade 7
 Squish, squelch, squish. Fred the frog's feet hopped over the soggy canopy of trees as he hurried to seek shelter underneath the leafy Banyan tree. It was rain season in the Amazon rain forest and everything was wet. Wet trees, wet ground, wet leaves, wet animals, and wet amphibians. Pretty much anything that was in the rain forest was wet.
Fred had never really been very enthusiastic about being wet. Especially the wet animal part, animals always smelled funny when they got wet. His grandma Sophia always said that you can't have trees without rain, and without trees there would be no tree frogs, and without tree frogs... well, then Fred wouldn't exist.
As Fred sat and pondered this, he suddenly saw the orange, white, and black body of a toucan flutter overhead. Fred's heart jumped into his throat, there were many toucans in the Amazon but only one had that unique combination of orange, blue, and red on its wing--like a blood red sun rising up above the crystal, turquoise Amazon River. That toucan's name was Bill, and Bill had taken it upon himself to torment all tree frogs no matter how old, young, big, or small. He had become a regular living terror for all tree frogs everywhere--picking up unsuspecting frogs and dropping them amongst the rainforest trees or simply eating them for his own greedy pleasure. Fred hid under a leaf and tried to look as much like a leaf as possible, hoping Bill wouldn't see him. Fortunately Bill didn't, and he moved on.
 "Isn't he just the most annoying bird you've ever met?" a voice said behind Fred. Fred jumped a mile into the air and turned tentatively around to face a beautiful girl tree frog staring back at him with her big, bulgy red eyes.
"Ummmm, yeah I guess," stammered Fred still trying to comprehend that a girl tree frog was actually talking to him.
"Oh I’m sorry," she said, "I’m just barging in on you and not even introducing myself, I'm Meg and I live in the tree with the pink hibiscus plant. What's your name?"
"My name is Fred. I live in the tree with the green vine around it," he answered, still a bit shocked.
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- Story by Jennifer Abrams, Grade 8
Frank the frog sat on a skinny brown twig looking up at the big blue sky overhead. Raindrops were dripping all around him. Thank goodness he was covered by a large green leaf above his round head. Around him were green, yellow, red, and orange plants. Clear blue drops of rain were falling from the sky. Frank placed his hand up on the leaf. It was wet and had been dripping on his head. It made him realize just how much his head was throbbing with pain. As he looked down he noticed a large scratch on his slimy arm. Where did that come from? The cut had to be from just recently because he did not remember seeing it there before.
He took a breath and remembered how he had gotten there. Somehow he had fallen off his lily pad on the pond back home and into the water. He remembered the water in the pond. It was cold, slimy, and foggy. As he fell into the water, a fish swam right under his stomach. The fish rose up and slid right underneath Frank's round belly to give him a ride. They rode for a long time before the fish finally got to the shore and Frank hopped off his scaly back.
 Frank jumped onto the ground and started to try to find someone who would know where he was. Before Frank got very far he noticed a big bird with razor-sharp talons and a beak that was two times the size of Frank's whole body. The hungry-looking bird swooped down above Frank's head and grabbed his chubby stomach with his sharp talons and carried him into the air. The bird was heading towards his nest. That could only mean one thing--Frank would be served as dinner to the bird and her family.
Frank started to become too heavy for the bird and he fell out of the bird's grasp. Her pointed talons scratched Frank's arm, leaving him with the scratch.
Frank fell through the sky. He caught himself on a branch just thick enough to support his weight.
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- Story by Rachel T., Grade 8
Once upon a time lived a great frog in the capitol of Yardin. He had everything including all the cute girl frogs, money, and friends. Most of this was due to the fact that he was the great prince of Yardin. His father was the King who ruled the land and he was slowly getting older.
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- Story by Jessica Couvillier, Grade 8
Finally, the rain came. The streams flowed high, the birds were hushed, and the leaves were full with enough water for Frog to take a shower. Frog came out of his hole, his dirt covered skin ready for the touch of the cool rain. He hopped to a soaking bush and jumped onto its slippery limbs. Frog’s sticky feet held him onto the branches as he climbed to a dome shaped leaf filled with water. Nothing could ruin the relaxing moment, or at least that's what Frog thought. He reached up and pulled the leaf down, a cascade of water fell on him, but so did something else. Frog looked in front of him, crossing his eyes to find a coal black fly on the tip of his nose. Frog's eyes turned red at the sudden realization that he would enjoy a little snack, and the fly knew it. The fly gave a high pitch chuckle and buzzed its wings. The fly disappeared in a pink flash. Frog sighed dreamily and got back to his shower. He pulled the leaf down again and another waterfall of rain fell on him. The red in his eyes disappeared as he licked his lips clean of his new favorite snack... a fertilizer fly.
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- Story by Megan Vincent, 8th Grade
Once upon a time during a beautiful day in the town of Hoppers Ville, Froggy McFrogger was busy working in his science laboratory. He planned to be the first frog to hop on the moon. Everybody that knew him thought that he was crazy. His girlfriend, Felicity Frog was the only frog that had some faith in him.
 That night was windy and cloudy. Froggy had not left his lab since that morning because he was sure that he was about to make a scientific breakthrough. He kept mixing different chemicals with different types of food. His goal was to make some sort of chemically advanced food that could automatically bring you to space. Suddenly he got a great idea. Maybe I could mix hydrogen with jellybean mixture in order to make jumping beans, Froggy said to himself. He looked in all of his cabinets and drawers, but he couldn't find any of the ingredients he needed to make jellybeans. He called Felicity and asked her if she wanted to go to the market with him.
When they arrived at the Supermarket, people noticed Froggy and pointed and whispered. Froggy was used to this kind of behavior from other frogs because he was different and it's hard to understand frogs that are different from you. When they gathered up all of the ingredients, they bought their items and went back to Froggy's lab. There, he mixed together all of the ingredients and added the crucial chemical: hydrogen. He placed the mixture in the oven at 450 degrees and waited for 20 minutes. When the timer rang, he placed the jellybeans in cooling trays and placed them in his freezer. Then he placed opened his skylight and was ready for the test.
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Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The following story is an interpretation of the 1,000 Words image in the September, 2006 issue of Writing Magazine.
Pete Saves The Day
- Story by Elle MacGillis, Grade 7
Once upon a time at a grand hotel in Florida, called "Shades of Green," there lived a tree frog named Pete. Pete lived on the golf course near the edge of the hotel's property (hole number eight to be exact). Pete was a pretty normal tree frog; he had plenty of polliwog friends, a nice warm tree for a home, and many insects to eat. But there was one thing that made him different from other tree frogs. Pete loved to hang-glide. It wasn't just his hobby. It was his LIFE. Day and night he would hang-glide, hang-glide, and hang-glide.
One rainy afternoon, Pete was hang-gliding over the hotel swimming pool. He was looking for an unlucky bug that had fallen into the pool, when he heard someone cry. He looked over his right shoulder to see Macie, the monarch butterfly, who lived in the marsh next to the golf course Pete lived on. Her wing was caught on a thorn bush that stood right outside the front entrance of the hotel! Unfortunately, the thorn made a hole all the way through her wing! Pete swooped down and started circling Macie. He did not get off his hang-glider though, for fear that he would get caught on the bush too.
"Please, Pete, help me!" Macie cried.
"Just stay still and I'll swoop down and grab you!"
Pete started circling lower and lower. When he was right above Macie he stuck out his tongue and slurrrrrped it right onto her head. With a short pull to the left and a jerk upward he pulled her off the rose's thorn and up to his hang-glider.
"Gotcha!" Pete smiled at Macie. She smiled back. She wrapped her legs around Pete as she closed her eyes, ready to hang on for her life. Within a minute, the wind was at their backs as they took off toward the "Critters in Need" hospital.
That night Macie underwent reconstructive wing surgery. The surgery, with physical therapy, would enable her to fly again!
The next day she awoke to Pete at her side.
"Pete, you have no idea how much that meant to me yesterday! Without you I don't think I would have survived." Macie whispered.
Pete tried to talk but found he could not speak. Instead he just smiled and nodded his head as tears rolled down his cheeks.
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Thursday, September 28, 2006
The following story is an interpretation of the 1,000 Words image in the September, 2006 issue of Writing Magazine.
Sammy
- Story by Alex Lindstrom, Grade 7
"Ouch, my head hurts now," said Redeye, as the drop of water slammed into his tiny head. It was torture for Redeye and his brother and his sister (Hopper and Sticky), as they tried to make their way in the pouring rain to the massive leaf hanging from the tree. The slithering boa constrictor, Sammy, was close behind. His goal was to finish what he had started ...
Once, there were twenty-eight little tadpoles swimming happily in a crystal clear pond, fed by a bubbling waterfall in the middle of the Amazon Rain Forest. The pond was full of water, piranhas, and lots of redeye tadpoles. The parents of the redeye tadpoles lived in the beautiful pond too, making sure all the babies were well fed and out of danger. Every one of the tadpoles had a perfect, carefree life.
Every day the young tadpoles swam and played wonderful games of chase and hide-and-go-seek in the warm water. They were then fed by their mother, who caught buzzing insects with her long, sticky, pink tongue as they flew by. After they were fed and had swam and played, they would take a nap in a secluded area of the pond behind a giant rock under the lily pad. They loved every aspect of their simple life.
One day, while the babies were out chasing each other around, playing under the rushing waterfall, and hiding behind rocks, they heard a piercing cry from their mother, begging and pleading for them to swim under the rock as fast as they could. All of the babies, both startled and afraid, slowly went over to their mother by the rock ... all except three. Then they saw it, the image forever imprinted in their minds, a boa constrictor, with three of their siblings, Lucy, Leaf, and Mudpie in its coils. It opened up its massive mouth, and swallowed them whole.
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Wednesday, September 20, 2006
According to a well-worn proverb, a picture is worth a thousand words. In the September 2006 issue of Writing, we published a photograph of a red-eyed tree frog (Agalychnis callidryas) which was taken on a rainy day by photographer Michael Durham. We asked you to write a story about this frog -- to give it a name, describe its surroundings, and imagine the events that brought it to this moment. Your story could be 50 words, 100 words, the proverbial 1,000 words--or more. Here is one of our favorite submissions.
Croaky The Frog
- Story by Andrea Nielsen-George, Grade 7
It was a great day in the Amazon until Croaky the rain forest frog came into the trees and told everyone the bad news. "Everyone, everyone! The weather has just been announced!"
"Well, Croaky what is the news?" asked all the animals of the forest.
Trying to catch his breath, Croaky answered, "King Lion said that there is to be some rain today!"
Everyone looked at him as their faces dropped.
Sally Spider said sarcastically, "Croaky, if you haven't noticed, this is a rainforest.”
Mary Moth said, "Yeah, it rains here everyday."
All the animals turned around and left Croaky by himself. Croaky thought that everyone would thank him, but instead they were aggravated with him.
Croaky went to go find a leaf big enough to cover him. "Ah-ha," he said to himself. "This is a huge leaf. It will do for the storm."
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