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.

In READ Magazine's pirate issue (yar), we asked you to write the conclusion to a story called The Pirate's Life For Me. To read the first part of that story, click here. To read Deb Chadwick's conclusion... keep reading.

  

The Pirate's Life For Me (Part II)

- Deb Chadwick, Grade 11

I have been on this boat for the past 8 months and I have learned a lot: how to sword fight, rob ships, and gain the trust and respect from all of the other pirates. The one thing that I love the most is my new sword. From the very moment I held it, I knew that it was mine.

Uncle Petey has taught me well and I hope I've made him very proud. One day, Uncle Petey had been looking for Black Island, a dangerous island where the dead wander. He had said that a lost but very valuable treasure could be found there, but the treasure was protected by some kind of a monster. When the island was near, Uncle Petey and I lowered the smaller boat into the water and began to row toward the island.

 

Uncle Petey seemed scared as we entered the cave. The closer we got to the treasure the colder we became. We entered a chamber that was large and damp. Water was dripping from the ceiling. As we got closer to the treasure we saw the monster. She was half-woman, half-snake, and she had a very long tail.

 

Uncle Petey told me to get the gold while he distracted her, but I was the only one to get out of the cave alive. When I got back to the ship, I told everyone what had happened. The next day we had Petey's funeral. We filled a coffin with all of Petey's belongings and set it off to sea on fire. When it was over, all the other pirates decided that I should become the new captain because of my bravery. It's been 3 years since we lost Petey but I promised everyone that I would be just as good of a pirate as he was.

I'm sailing away today, to a new job and opportunity. Change isn't easy, but every time I balk at the notion of it, I'm reminded of a poem from Edgar Lee Masters's Spoon River Anthology.

If you haven't bumped into it yet, Spoon River Anthology is a must-read collection of poems by the inhabitants of a fictional town, Spoon River, in Illinois. Each poem is an epitaph by the people of that town, and together they reveal many, many secrets, and tell one big story. It is said that many of the characters in this poetry collection were inspired by various people Masters came to know throughout his life.

So, anyway, the poem is a short and simple one:

64. George Gray

I HAVE studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me—
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.	5
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail	10
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire—	15
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

When I graduated from high school, my friend Gift inscribed and painted this poem for me, and gave it to me in a simple wooden frame. This frame is one of those things that I have carried around with me wherever life has taken me.

Those lines: "I know that we must lift the sail / And catch the winds of destiny/ Wherever they drive the boat" ... well, they remind me everyday that I must not be afraid of change, of taking chances, and of going out on a limb ... and that's a good thing to be reminded of, isn't it? I think George Gray would agree.

I hate the word goodbye. Don't you? It has so much finality attached to it. So, I'll turn to other words in other languages or from other times to take leave of my WORD comrades:

A bien tot - French, literally translated as "in good time" .... i.e. see you around
Au revoir - French, literally translated as "to be seen again" .... i.e. see you soon
Farewell - from Middle English "fare thee well," may all go well with you
Phir Milenge - Hindi/Urdu, literally translated as "we'll meet again"

The world is a small place so ... yes, we will meet again -- maybe when we cross each other on our respective sail boats on the ocean of life ... or on the page, if nowhere else.

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.

The next time you're in Cumbria... wait... where's Cumbria? It's all the way over in jolly ol' England, on the northwest tip of the country. They call it the Lake District and it's one of the most beautiful places to be inspired.

William Wordsworth was one of many poets who wrote about lovely Cumberland (as Cumbria was called in his time). He captured the glory of his home in a poem called, I wandered lonely as a cloud. And now, 200 years after Wordsworth's time, there's a new generation in town.

Read William Wordsworth's poem and then, check out the video below it. It's an updated version, to say the very least.

"I wandered lonely as a cloud"
   - William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

That was the old school version. Pretty wasn't it?

Here's the new. Check it:

Heh. Word.

Which do you prefer? William Wordsworth's poem or the video rap? Why? Post your comment below. 

AND... to learn more about silly squirrels that may or may not rap, click here, here, here, or here.