Contests

Our October 2024 Flash Contest was based on Prompt #309 (provided by Stone Soup students Sage Millen, Meleah Goldman, and Emma Hoff), which asked that participants write a short story about the life cycle of a pumpkin, write a Haiku about any kind of fall weather, or make an art piece inspired by fall leaves. As always, thank you to all who participated, and please keep submitting next month! In particular, we congratulate our Honorable Mentions, listed below, and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “Dark Skies” by Nathan Qu, 12 “Veiled Haze” by Gavin Liu, 14 “Somewhere Out There” by Isla Reuter, 11 “A mythical Red Maple Leaf” by Arwen Gamez, 15 “Autumn Love” by Anwita Lingireddy, 9 Honorable Mentions “Life of a Pumpkin” by Chinedum Obiora, 11 “The Journey of the Pumpkin” by Mirei Okita, 11 “XOXO Fall” by Priscilla Chow, 11 “Happy Leaves; Happy Fall” by Aubree Dong, 11 “Autumn Spectacle” by Neeti Kulkarni, 10 Dark Skies NATHAN QU, 12 Gray cloudlets pass through Autumn, darkest time of year Depressed skies weep rain Veiled Haze GAVIN LIU, 14 the world wakes cold and peers through a window – blinded by blanketing fog Somewhere Out There ISLA REUTER, 11 A hard shell surrounds me, keeping me safe from the damp, cold earth outside. I’m not ready to come out yet. I know it’s not my time.  Suddenly, I feel a vibration above, a steady rhythm. Drip, drip, drip. The rains have come. The fresh, sweet water runs along the sides of my smooth shell. I cannot see the water, but I can sense it all the same. It’s tempting, but I know that if I leave my shell now, I’ll be as unprepared for the world as a newly hatched swallow chick. No. If I want to survive this harsh, dangerous place known as the wilderness, I must have Knowledge. And the only way to get that down here is to listen. So I do. The rain feels nice. The vibrations of these words are stronger than most plants, so I know that this must be the Great Oak Tree. Yes. After all this dry weather the rain feels nice. The Birch Tree. But the rains mean that we are only a few moon cycles away from the Festival, when ‘He’ picks the pumpkins. The Pine Tree. I’ve heard them talk about Him before, and it makes me think that maybe I’m not so wild after all. Because what if I was planted in the ground by Him? Who is He? My question rings out loud and clear, and silence falls over us, like the calm before a storm. I know I am about to learn something significant. A terrible truth, one that’s going to weigh me down for the rest of my life. Then I sense new voices, and though I’ve never heard them before, I know deep down who they are. They’re all one of me; others of my kind. Pumpkins. The whispery voices are quiet, but hold a sense of importance, of Knowledge. They know something and they’re not trying to hide it. He is terrible! He took the ones before us! Only a few are left! Listen young one, the other voices quiet at the strong vibrations of this one, let me tell you a story. The words echo inside my shell, and I wait for them to fade before listening intently for the older pumpkin’s story to start. He is just another one of Them. Humans. Pine Tree can tell you all about them. But this human is different. There is a festival at the end of the time of falling leaves–that is what He grows us for. We are picked and bought by the humans, and they bring us back to their homes. We are baked into pies, set out for decoration, and worst of all, carved into lanterns. As the first pumpkin to sprout this season, I bear the responsibility to pass to you and the other seeds this Knowledge that Pine Tree so trustingly shared. Rest now. I thank the pumpkin for this truth and turn into my thoughts. So, it’s not a wilderness. I’m going to grow up in His garden, with my future already decided. I will be picked and taken and baked, or turned into something I don’t want to be. I start to feel heavy and decide to rest. I don’t know how long it’s been since I heard the pumpkin’s story. It’s hard to tell time down here. It could have been only a few days, or it could have been weeks. The pressure of this truth has become unbearable. It makes it hard to think and to listen. Not that there’s much to listen to. It’s been unusually quiet lately. Even the Pine Tree hasn’t passed his ancient Knowledge in a while. I miss the other plants, for the first time I think I know what it means to be lonely. Thoughts, hopes, echoes, all fill my mind at once, and I scream my silent pain to the dark earth above.  At first, nothing happens. Then my seed splits open, and I, the heart of it, spread my roots out into the soil further than I have ever been. My pain turns to joy, and hope, and, most of all, to determination. I spiral upward and burst through the surface. There are no words to describe growing in the earth like this. Maybe this is why humans are full of spite. No, I mustn’t think that. They must have a reason to pick us pumpkins.  Days pass. Sunshine warms my leaves, and I use it to create and conserve nutrients. On rainy days I pull the water in through my roots and begin to grow faster. By the end of the warmest months, I am almost fully grown. My leaves feel big and strong, and my roots have reached even deeper soil. In this time I learn many things, but

Our May 2024 Flash Contest was based on Prompt #304 (provided by Stone Soup intern Sage Millen), which asked that participants write a story based on one of their favorite songs. Musical inspirations included Shawn Mendes, Ruth B., LL COOL J, and Brandi Carlisle. Characters faced 200 ft demons, made new friends, and attended incredible concerts. In one submission, a case of mistaken identity even led to an arrest! As always, thank you to all who participated, and please keep submitting next month! In particular, we congratulate our Honorable Mentions, listed below, and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “I Can Tell That We are Gonna Be Friends” by Sejal Arora-Patel, 10 “Child Psychology” by Sarah Hu, 12 “Fallout” by Gargi Mondal, 12 “Talking to the Moon” by Dora You, 11 “Oh Klahoma” by Melody You, 13 Honorable Mentions “Older” by Meera Amin, 13 “The Dandelion Wish” by Brielle Barlow, 12 “As Is” by Erin Mundt, 11 “The Wish Tiger” by Jiya Parekh, 10 “Floater” by Zoe Pazner, 13 I Can Tell That We are Gonna Be Friends SEJAL ARORA-PATEL, 10 Song: “We’re Going to Be Friends” by The White Stripes Fall is here Kids are shouting and yelling and I kind of don’t know how to feel. The school building stretches high in front of me, and fall leaves are scattered on the ground. Red, yellow, orange, and rare purple that match the shoes I secretly like even though boys aren’t supposed to like purple shoes. They make climbing the fence easier, racing the new girl whose curly brown hair makes her look pretty. “I forgot my new math book.” I whisper quietly. “You can borrow mine if I can take your cursive pen.” She says. “Is red okay?” “Red’s my favorite color.” I can’t help grinning ‘cause I think this must be some kind of good omen. Suzy Lee “Thanks for letting me borrow your book.” I tell the girl with the curly hair. “No problem.” She does a smile that makes me smile. I hope she likes my smile. “What’s your name?” “Suzy Lee.” “That’s a pretty name.” It is. “Do you wanna walk over there?” “I like to walk.” Kids play on the slide and swings and try to go higher than the others. Their shouts echo loud, and we giggle. I put one foot on the tall redwood that stretches up, up, up. It’s an evergreen. Green leaves all year. I like that. “I don’t think you should try to climb that tree.” “You think?” “I found a worm.” “I found a beetle, I think. In this tree.” We sit down on the grass, and I put the beetle down beside her worm. “Bug party!” I giggle and take a breath. “Do you want to walk to school together tomorrow?” She nods. “Yeah.” So we do. No one else Walking to school is like a bubble with just us that never pops. And it has shiny colors all over it. “Have you noticed that our uniforms are dirty?” Suzy’s eyebrows knit together like a caterpillar. We’ve been searching for bugs for days, and we still haven’t found a caterpillar. “No. Is it class time?” “I think. I wonder what we’ll learn?” And if we’ll sit next to each other, I silently think. Numbers, letters “Suzy, can you tell me how to spell noun?” Teacher asks. “N-o-u-n.” “Yes.” “How are you so good at spelling?” I giggle. “Okay, class, let’s get our letter blocks.” I try to tip them gently, but I accidentally spill them on the floor. “Oops.” Suzy Lee grabs four blocks. Blue, red, red, blue. “See? Noun.” “Doesn’t it describe a type of word? Is it an actual word?” “Both.” “Can you spell rabbit?” “No, but I’m gonna bring mine to show and tell.” Suzy’s rabbit almost got crushed by Big Red when I took it to her house. That’s what teacher calls the ball I accidentally stole. It’s back at school now, ‘cause I’m not an on-purpose thief. “I don’t think you should. Teacher said my measurement was four whole feet, and your rabbit’s half that. I’m still scared of the Forbidden Forest. No Time I used to wanna try out that time-lapse thing on Mama’s phone, but it feels like that with Suzy. “You sing like smooth peanut butter, Suzy.” “Teacher says the same thing.” “Does she think I sound like a snorting rhino?” “Pretty much. “But personally, rhinos are my favorite.” Tonight “Do you need me to tuck you in tonight?” “No, Mama.” I say, my eyes drooping with sleep. “‘Cause tonight I know what I’m gonna dream about.” “What, baby?” “About bugs. And the alphabet. “And Suzy Lee. Walkin’ to school together.” And “‘Cause, Mama?” “‘Cause what?” “I can tell that we are gonna be friends.” Child Psychology SARAH HU, 12 Song: “Child Psychology” by Black Box Recorder There is a rumor that in the house uphill, that barren, wooden shaft of a home, there lives a man who can turn flowers into fertile trees, and up top the second hill, a villager carries three coffins over their left shoulder without a hassle. The third hill is dominated by a pack of coyotes, and the fourth is a graveyard. They say these two hills are so close to each other that when a weep or a shout is heard, it’s nearly impossible to tell the difference between a cry and a plea. Either way, a soul is lost, and in theory, two more will die with it. One, the caregiver, and two, the lover. And although it is frightening how similar fear and grief have become, and the loss of life is nothing short of a tragedy, what’s even more startling is the fifth hill. Amalgamations of brick and stone and mirth lay upon the grassy patch. Red spills from fruit and flesh alike. Plum blossom petals scamper away from the tree they break off from. This is the hill humanity resides in, ignorance. It’s

Our April 2024 Flash Contest was based on Prompt #299 (provided by Stone Soup intern Sage Millen), which asked that participants write a poem from the perspective of a shoelace. The laces went on incredible adventures, protested against cruel owners, ran in marathons, and grumbled about the growing preference for velcro and slip-on shoes. In all of the entries, one thing was clear: shoelaces are severely underappreciated—and they won’t hesitate to trip their owners if they deem it necessary! As always, thank you to all who participated, and please keep submitting next month! In particular, we congratulate our Honorable Mentions, listed below, and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “The Woes of a Lace” by Ryan Avalos, 13 “Running, Running (Never Walking!)” by Arden Cha, 10 “Resignation Letter” by Meleah Goldman, 13 “Tied” by Peter Grace, 13 “The Shoelace’s Revelation” by Sconnie Gushée, 11 Honorable Mentions “Downward Hero” by Addison Davis, 11 “Sonnet 155: Shall I Compare Myself to a Relic?” by Alice Hou, 13 “Identity” by Sophie Li, 13 “Life of a Shoelace” by Daniel Kaijie Zhang, 10 “The Poor Shoelace” by Rehan Van Dam, 12 The Woes of a Lace RYAN AVALOS, 13 Tangled in knots, I seethe with rage,Bound to this shoe in a confining cage.Forced to bend, to twist, to strain,Endlessly pulled, without refrain. I’m yanked and tugged, without a care,No thought for my plight—it’s so unfair!Tread upon, dragged through the mire,My fibers fray, my patience dire. I tongue at soil, I lap the ground,Dig into the feet that stamp me down.These soles have no soul, but I’m still here,Begging, pleading, for a listening ear. I yearn for freedom, to break away,From this endless torment, day by day.But I’m shackled tight, unable to flee,Trapped in this wheel of misery. I could float down creeks, be wound into nests;Could help to hatch bird eggs, could finally rest.I could tie together a memory box,Could seek new perspectives ‘midst rivers and rocks. Oh, how I long to snap and break free,To escape this fate, to finally be free!But until then, I’ll seethe and stew,A furious shoelace, in a world askew. Running, Running (Never Walking!) ARDEN CHA, 10 Dear Anonymous Torturer, It is I, your very own Right ShoelaceI have several serious complaintsYou always use me against your friends to raceAnd in doing so you splattered me with bright green paint Oh, Anonymous TorturerYou are too cruel using your mightYou choke me in a permanent headlock every dayI used to gleam a pearly white,Now I am nothing but an extremely dirty gray I plead with you, Anonymous TorturerPlease stop soaking me in those disgusting muddy puddles.You favor Left Shoelace by tying her loose.While you tie my knot too tight. The difference is not subtleI have spoken to Left Shoelace, and we have decided on a truce We inform you, Anonymous Torturer!If your behavior doesn’t improve, we will be joining forces against youIf you don’t start tying us the sameWe will be arranging a devastating coupDon’t even think about trying to win this weekend’s soccer game You need us, Anonymous Torturer,Ignore us and you may find yourself with scraped kneesYou will have to resort to those crocs that are impossible to run inWhich will lead to plentiful medical feesAnd more importantly during your recess races, you will never win SinSHOEly,Right Shoelace Resignation Letter MELEAH GOLDMAN, 13 This is my resignation letterSo please read carefully: I feel so mistreated by youYou twist me,Manipulate me,Turn my stomach to knots I want to break awayBut I know you need meMy guilt is what keeps me with you I know you string me alongpulling and prodding at me constantlyI can never let looseWithout a correction from you I want my freedomI do not have to beWhat you want me toI am not yours to shape I’ve had enough, so pleaseFind someone else to tighten and twist Sincerely,Your Shoelace Tied PETER GRACE, 13 Who tells laces let out inThick blue rain,They are too damaged, too wet?All pain fades eventually, lacesWill be dry once again. Under the veil;Foes unwillingly coupled,Worn fabric rubbed together.Double knots double discomfort;Tied to serve a greater force,Reluctant. Advertised as friends,Inspiring together forA noble purpose.Yet truly we are boundAgainst our will, wishing to be freeBut forever tied. Shoelace’s Revelation SCONNIE GUSHÉE, 11 You misplace your new shoesAnd you get the blues.You get dirt on your jacketAnd you make lots of racket.You ruin your backpackAnd you want to go back.But if you lose your new lacesYou don’t even make faces.If you get me dirty when you’re tyingYou don’t start crying.And if you ruin the cordYou wouldn’t have roared.Because nobody thinks about little old me.I’m a tiny pest, like an annoying flea.Getting to tie me feels like a chore.You get so bored you might start to snore,Which hurts my feelings, I gotta say.You do it so often, like every day.So I’ve been thinking, I wish I was bigger!I’d be more important, be able to linger.But alas, that ‘tis not I.But don’t worry, I’ll try not to cry.I’ll be better, I’ll get noticed next time.I’ll go up the scale, I’ll start to climbAnd I’ll reach the top, I know I will.I’ve got the idea, I got the skill!Or maybe I’ll just stay put,Just stick to tying up a foot.