Flash Contest #24: Write a Poem That Can Be Read Up or Down. Our October Flash Contest was based on our weekly creativity prompt #121, another great prompt from Stone Soup intern Anya Geist. It always feels like a little miracle that our writers can craft these pieces of work, and give us two poems in one! Whether we end up with two poems that emphasise one another’s points, or whether the poem says the opposite depending on which direct you read it in, all of these poems really make the reader think, and even when the topic is sad, the form brings great pleasure. It wasn’t easy to narrow the choices down with the large selection of poems on a diverse range of topics, but with Anya’s help we were able to come to a decision. Thank you, Anya, for a great writing prompt and some wise judging! Congratulations to all this month’s entrants, and especially to our Honorable Mentions and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners Home by Arishka Jha, 12, Redwood City, CA Perspective by Lily Jones, 10, & Sawyer Hanley, 10, Eugene, OR A diary of a young musician by Alice Ruan, 8, Beaverton, OR Fall Fiesta by Adele Stamenov, 11, Bethel Park, PA War, Love, and Peace by Chloe Zhang, 9, Portland, OR Honorable Mentions Save the Earth by Prisha Aswal, 8, Portland, OR Wild Fire by Cathy Jiang, 11, Portland, OR The Light by Grace Mancini, 12, Glenside PA Fire and Water Collide by Sophie Yu, 12, Houston, TX My Toys by Jessie Zhang, 8, Portland, OR Arishka Jha, 12Redwood City, CA Home Arishka Jha, 12 lost. hope is not truly important and the belief that happiness can exist here is simply an illusion. ignorance is beautiful and life is money, power, destruction, and nothing more. it is unrealistic to believe that we live in a world of happiness, learning, and freedom. we are surrounded by constant confinement. really, there’s no such thing as home. Sawyer Hanley, 10Lily Jones, 10Eugene, OR Perspective Lily Jones, 10, and Sawyer Hanley, 10 By him I am hurt It’s a lie He is nice And what I say next is not true He is a despicable mean guy No, I believe He is kind and caring Never will I accept He’s rude He’s friendly And I refuse to consider He is selfish Alice Ruan, 8Beaverton, OR A Diary of a Young Musician Alice Ruan, 8 Today is the day I will make myself clear I am no good at music And I refuse to believe that Violin songs are heartwarming I hate harp It is not true that I would rather play piano instead of video games Scales, songs and practises are a waste of time I refuse to believe that Music brings harmony I am positive that No one likes music It is not true that Music is strong, and brings people together Today is the day I will make myself clear Adele Stamenov,11Bethel Park, PA Fall Fiesta Adele Stamenov, 11 The wind blows freely Crisp air fills with excitement Leaves glow through the breeze Colors splash above Small kites dominate the sky Dancing in the park Like a fiesta There is always so much joy In windy fall days Chloe Zhang, 9Portland, OR War, Love, and Peace Chloe Zhang, 9 War is everywhere It is a lie that Everyone is at peace It can not be more true that People can not love Only the morons think that The world revolves around love and peace I am sure that We will never see a day of peace It is a lie that Love exists I’d rather believe that Life is cruel and harsh It is a lie that Anyone can be at peace
Flash Contest
Flash Contest #23, September 2020: Flash Fiction from the Perspective of an Object – our winners & their work!
Flash Contest #23: Create a piece of flash fiction written from the perspective of the first object you saw when you woke up this morning. Your narrative should be no longer than 250 words. For our first monthly version of our regular Flash Contest we decided to request a piece of flash fiction from an unusual perspective: that of a random object. Given that we asked for the perspective of the first thing the writer saw when they woke up in the morning, we gained a lot of insight into the inner lives of lamps, pets, curtains, toys, clothing, bedding, books and magazines, desk items like pens and pencils, and many other stalwarts of the bedroom. It was so much fun to read the various lively and perceptive voices you gave to these inanimate (or non-human) objects. Many of them seem to take a very dim view of the humans they have their silent eyes on most of the day (or night), especially all the things they witness that they would rather not see . . . We are delighted to share the work of our winners with you on this page. Congratulations to all of them, and to our Honorable Mentions. Remember: the next monthly flash contest will be based on the first weekly prompt of October! Winners “The Silent Stalker” by Chloe Chan, 12, Bellevue, WA “Worst Fear” by Scarlet He, 9, Scarsdale, NY “Travails and Humiliations of a Cotton Shirt” by Iago Macknik-Conde, 13, Brooklyn, NY “Wanted” by Daniel Wei, 13, Weddington, NC “Woes of a Blanket” by Lacole Yang, 13, Irvine CA Honorable Mention “Story of the Bed” by Vaishali Andukuri, 10, Oakland, NJ “Day of a Pencil Box” by Judah Davidoff, 9, Brunswick, MD “The Proud Life of a Blanket” by Lucy Kershen, 13, Norman, OK “The Life of a Lamp” by Chloe Mancini, 9, Glenside, PA “New and Improved” by Sanvi Patel, 11, Midland, MI “Morning from the Eyes of a Doll” by Joycelyn Zhang, 10, San Diego, CA Chloe Chan, 12Bellevue, WA The Silent Stalker Chloe Chan, 12 Ding ding ding! The half-awake girl below me groans loudly as she hears the alarm clock ringing maliciously in the morning. Finally, after rolling around on the bed, she wrenches the teal green blanket off and stumbles–if not sleepwalks–into the bathroom. I see everyone and everything from a bird’s eye view. I know the secrets of everyone. There are some things I would rather not see. Just like when I saw a toddler picking his nose with his thumb. Just like when I saw a laughing mother binge-watch “Kitchen Nightmares.” Just like when I saw the girl make up an excuse to her teacher when she forgot her homework. “My dog ate my homework,” is what she mumbled. The girl exits the bathroom and heads downstairs into the kitchen. Yes! My favorite part of the day! I hear a racket of pots and pans. I smell an assortment of berries, batter, and butter. Hmm . . . is she making pancakes for breakfast today? I look at her, hovering over a brown, spongy pancake with a spoonful of aromatic berries to go onto her pancake. Yum! Oh, how I wish I could taste this masterpiece! But I am unable to do so. You may be wondering what I am. Well, I can’t tell you my answer or else scientists will come after me! Just thinking of this gives me a nightmare! You will just have to guess. At least, I call myself the silent stalker. Scarlet He, 9Scarsdale, NY Worst Fear Scarlet He, 9 I peered through the tinted green tank. Big human woke up. Left room. I swam around. Plants on the bottom of my tank grew. Grew and grew . . . never-ending growing. Soon, my whole tank was filled with the long stems of plastic plants. You could no longer see the rainbow rocks at the bottom of the tank. I swam around once more, dazed. The human had not come back. Where had she gone? All I see is an ocean of green and black. It had been at least a few hours. Human still not back. Plants overwhelming me. I closed my eyes. I drifted to the top of the tank, my belly facing up. My worst fear had overcome me, once again. I opened my eyes. Where was the green? A big grinning face was looking through the tank. The water was clear, like clear glue, and the plants were gone. The rainbow rocks reflected off the tank, casting a shimmering glint. Iago Macknick-Conde, 13Brooklyn, NY Travails and Humiliations of a Cotton Shirt Iago Macknik-Conde, 13 I am a shirt. A red cotton shirt, but fading fast. That’s because of my wearer, thirteen years old and going on six. I kid you not, the brat took me to the Y last Friday and used me as a swim-shirt. First of all, he keeps me on while he changes into his swim-trunks, and there are just some things you can’t unsee. As if that’s not humiliating enough, then I have to swallow the insults from the swim-shirt gang in the pool. “Aye, what’re you doing here in the water, you landlubber!” The creeps talk like pirates like they think that’s cool. Dorks. “Ahoy, scallywag, try to not choke your swimmer!” The swim-shirt closest to me jabbers on, and I realize that air is trapped below my collar, turning me into a buoy. So now I’m suffocating the little moron. Finally the class ends, with the kid half dead, my body drenched, and the seadog losers laughing their hems off. Two days ago, I get some relief at last when the cleaning lady arrives. She puts me inside the washing machine and then lays me inside the dryer for a full-body massage. Best of all, she sets me on the highest shelf of the closet, next to an unmatched sock who has been hiding here for longer than I’ve been alive. We should be good for a few years: no way the brat can reach us without a stool
Flash Contest #22: Write a Story About a Unifying Place–Our Winners and Their Work!
Flash Contest #22: Write a Story About a Unifying Place Maybe this is a coffee shop where a regular group of writers share their work, or a church where folks go to practice their religion. Simply explore how these people are unified, and why. For our last in the current series of weekly flash contests, entrants were inspired by another terrific prompt by Stone Soup reader and contributor Liam Hancock, 13. Liam asked you to write about a unifying place–and it was fascinating so see how you interpreted this. Perhaps not surprisingly, many of you thoughts of bookshops, libraries and favourite reading corners as your place of unity, comfort and companionship; others came up with a stunning range of locations they love for the people and the activities that take place in them. We read some beautiful writing this week, and are delighted to share the work of our winners with you on this page. Congratulations to all of them, and to our Honorable Mentions. Winners I walk the path I have walked many times by Morgan Dodd, 13, Portland, Oregon Waiting For Camp by Selina Lai, 10, Dublin, CA The Warehouse by Daniel Wei, 13, Weddington, NC Hope by April Yu, 12, East Brunswick, NJ Cinema by Annie Yu, 11, Great Neck, NY Honorable Mention Ireland by Stella Mae Cobb, 11, Norfolk, CT There are many like you! by Aashitha Jeyaganesh, 10, Edison, NJ The Library by Jason Liu, 11, Sharon, MA The Whales in the Metro Station by Kyler Min, 9, Vienna, VA The Bookworms by Ella Wan, 9, North Oaks, MN Please note that our Flash Contest will continue through the end of the year, but now that school is back in session we will be holding it once a month, instead of every week. The weekly prompt on the first Monday of every month will be the subject of the contest, and you will have until noon PST on the following Sunday to submit your entries–we are giving you a little more time than before, as we know you have more on with school! Morgan Dodd, 13Portland, OR I walk the path I have walked many times Morgan Dodd, 13 I walk the path I have walked many times. Behind the abandoned seven eleven parking lot, and deep into the woods. My hands brush the thorn bushes that used to bring us so much pain. The creek that I used to be able to swim in. And finally I arrive at my destination, the fort that me and only the closest of my friends built. It was quite the site. Three long summer years filled with long days of work led to arguably the most impressive fort. From the outer walls riddled with holes, to the grand treehouse in the middle of our little city we built ourselves, to the elevated fighting platform where we settled our disputes. The same place the accident happened. I start to see some of my friends arrive, all dressed appropriately for the occasion. I am now passing the walls and now I am at what they called the central hall, even though it was fully exposed to the elements. I finally arrive at the meeting place where a few members of our group are standing over a tree. All of them are dressed in black and have their head lowered. Underneath them is a picture of a boy, and under that a body of a boy. The memories come rushing back to me. A serious argument had broken out that day. I was in the treehouse finishing up one of the bedrooms, when I started to hear shouting from beneath me. Two of our members, Kyle and Chad were arguing over something, I could not tell what at the time. All I knew was that they were very enraged with each other, to the point that they were going to settle their dispute on the fighting platform. Now, the fighting platform has some distinct rules: no kicking, no weapons, and especially no pushing due to the fact that it was a pretty big fall–about 6 feet. Everyone was gathered on the ground or on the poorly-made benches surrounding the ring. There is where I learned the spark of this conflict. Chad had convinced Kyle’s girlfriend to leave him and date Chad. There was a lot of passion behind this fight, and it showed. Kyle began to swing wildly at Chad while Chad was trying his best to dodge the blows. Chad was able to see a weakness in Kyle’s wild attacks and was able to nail him directly in the mouth. In a fit of rage Kyle charged at Chad and sent Chad careening off the platform. Chad landed in the worst way possible, on his neck. He wasn’t getting up. The ambulance was called, and so were the police. Chad and Kyle were both taken away. So was our fort. The authorities said it was no longer safe. That was the end of our time here. Except recently our fort has made a comeback on the anniversary of the accident. Chad’s family asked to bury his body under the fort’s treehouse, for it’s the thing he loved most in life. Everyone decided to come together, and commemorate his death, and everyone is here placing flowers under the tree. Selina Lai, 10Dublin, CA Waiting For Camp Selina Lai, 10 Adeline bit her lip nervously and wrung her hands. She sighed loudly, leaned forward, and closely examined all the cracks and grooves on her nails. When are they going to be here? She thought impatiently. She briskly tucked her books of stamps into her pocket, careful not to let others see her precious collection that she held close to her heart. Her father had cheerfully introduced her to stamp-collecting a few years ago, but now he had stopped after getting fired from his job. Now he had to attend job interviews frequently. Her mother didn’t understand the importance of her stamps (she would constantly refer to them
