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!


# (2)#
StudentWriter    Posted by
StudentWriter
on 12/16/2006
4:07 PM
 Friday, December 15, 2006

-Fiction Snippet by Julia Weaver, Grade 8

I am running down the main deck, with a bucket full of salty sea water in my hands. "Man over board! Man over board!" Bosun, the captain's assistant, keeps on shouting. I run faster. The storm is raging; our ship is filling up fast. All around me, strong sailors are being swept away by the storm. The captain is blowing his whistle and shouting orders. I scoop up a bucket-full of water and dump it over the starboard side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a white flash streak across the otherwise blackened sky. My heart pace quickens and I worry for a split second about would happen if I lost my grip on the panel. I try not to think about it as I continue filling my bucket.

 

This is the 5th 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!


# (2)#
StudentWriter    Posted by
StudentWriter
on 12/15/2006
4:54 PM
 Thursday, December 14, 2006

- Poem by Katie Wilsdon, Grade 8

 

As I spring up

And out of the ground

I am blinded by the scorching sun

For only a mere moment

The sun beats down

On me day after day

I start to wonder when rain

Will fall to quench my thirst

 

As the wind picks up

A storm is near

I sway back and forth

Side to side

Rapidly picking up speed

Losing some petals

The rain starts to fall

Gracefully coming down

Drop by drop by drop

 

After the storm has past

And my quench has been cured

I start to feel myself becoming

Tall, taller, tallest

Rising above the rest

I look up as I follow the sun

It seems to me that

I am reaching for the sky

Towering over all plants

Like I am king of the world

Or at least the sunflower patch

 

This is the 4th 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!


# (1)#
StudentWriter    Posted by
StudentWriter
on 12/14/2006
3:47 PM
 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.
 

This is the third 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!


# (1)#
StudentWriter    Posted by
StudentWriter
on 12/13/2006
3:53 PM


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