Our October Flash Contest was based on Creativity Prompt #172 (provided by Molly Torinus, Stone Soup contributor), which asked participants to perform the meta task of writing about somebody writing a story. The result was a wave of submissions unlike we have ever seen, making the selection process this month even more difficult. We read stories that anthropomorphized bananas, that projected protagonists’ lives far into the future, that literally wrote out entire stories within stories, and much, much more. In the end, we wound up with five winners and five honorable mentions whose fantastic and distinct work gives shape to a bright and promising future! As always, thank you to all who submitted, and please submit again next month! In particular, we congratulate our Winners and our Honorable Mentions, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “With Great Power…” by Jack Liu, 13 (Livingston, NJ) “Words” by Lui Lung, 12 (Danville, CA) “Myrtle and Sage” by Pranjoli Sadhukha, 11 (Newark, OH) “Rejection Miracle” by Alexandra Steyn, 12 (Greenwich, CT) “Coffee Mates” by Emily Tang, 12 (Winterville, NC) Honorable Mentions “Crumpled Papers” by Anushka Dhar, 12 (Hillsborough, NJ) “Charlotte’s Unusual Story” by Hannah Francis, 11 (Stanford, CA) “Writer’s Block” by Nova Macknik-Conde, 10 (Brooklyn, NY) “It Should Bother You” by Violet Solana Perez, 13 (Scarsborough, ON, Canada) “Behind the Counter” by Eliya Wee, 11 (Menlo Park, CA) Jack Liu, 13 (Livingston, NJ) With Great Power… Jack Liu, 13 George slammed his fist onto the table, staring at his screen. He stared down into his lap, feeling the immense pressure that he was in. He sighed as he spun around in his old chair that was on the verge of breaking and took a bite of his sandwich that was on the damaged fold up table. It tasted the same as always: the sad taste of bologna and lettuce. Ever since his family hit hard times 3 months ago, he’d only been eating sandwiches with various processed meats. He got up to check on his family and found that they were all sleeping soundly on the floor on the ancient air mattress behind him. He heard the breathing of his mother, father and younger sister and was entranced for a bit, reflecting on better days. He snapped out of it once his stomach rumbled again, shook it off, and stared into the bright computer screen. He stared at the text that was written and started writing. “Lucas sat in his chair, staring up into the ceiling on his warm comfy bed…” Suddenly, out of nowhere there was a loud thud. George turned around; his whole family was sleeping on a giant bed instead of an air mattress and there was enough room for George to sleep there as well! George froze in shock; there was no possible way that this was real. All he did was write in his story. He shook his head in utter disbelief, spun back in his chair, and started typing “Lucas got some steak.” Again, just like the last time, a loud thud, and a plate was in front of him, with the most scrumptious looking steak he had seen in a long, long time. There were also utensils for him to eat with. George snatched them up and started cutting and devouring his steak so fast that within 5 minutes he was all done. He licked his lips as he felt the taste of the steak leave his tongue. Now, with his newfound power George contemplated all of the possibilities: he could be rich, famous, he could bring his family out of poverty. Everything he ever dreamed of could become reality. What would he do with all this power? George slipped into his spot in the bed and closed his eyes. The next morning he woke up, groggy, as his parents and younger sister gawked at the presence of their new bed. “Where did this come from?” They all asked in unison, looking at George with deep interest. “Last night I discovered that I can summon things if I write it in my story,” George said, scratching his head. “Then all our problems are solved! We can go back to life the way it was before! Before all of the hardships and pain.” His father had that glowing look in his eyes that George had seen before in happier days. George thought long and hard about what his father said. There was no way that such a wonderful gift could come without its consequences. Soon he would learn that there would be dire consequences for using this power too often. Lui Lung, 12 (Danville, CA) Words Lui Lung, 12 To be educated was to be a threat. It was dangerous for us to read, to write, to learn what no one else would tell us but ourselves. It was wrong. We were not born free, we did not live free, and we did not die free. This was what they told me, and I believed them. When I was young, I thought that my mother was dangerous, for she knew the forbidden ways. Someone had taught her. And when night fell, she taught me, too. With the speckled silver of the stars above us and the verdant green of the leaves by our side, she gave me the most valuable gift I had ever known. Words. Words were my sanctuary. Traced against the black canvas of the sky with my mother’s long, deft fingers. Spelled out in the earth with a branch. Spoken aloud in tales passed down for generations. Words became a place I could retreat to each night when I was so often warned to keep my mouth shut. I treasured every letter my mother offered me, held it near so it wouldn’t abandon me until I was sure I knew it well. I whispered my words to the stars, and the stars listened when no one else would. But come morning light, the stars would leave me and so would my words. The hazy
activity
Book Club Activity: Making Our Own Anthology
At our most recent Book Club meeting on May 29, the Stone Soup Book Club read Look Both Ways: A Tale Told in Ten Blocks, by Jason Reynolds (you can read about the meeting here). As a writing activity, we decided it would be fun to make our own Look Both Ways, an anthology by our participants about what happens to people on their walk home from school. Each of our participants wrote their own stories, and then several of them submitted their writing to be published in an “anthology” format, right here. Below you can read some of the writing from this Book Club. Some of the stories are based on real life, and others are fictional. Enjoy! Jared Ashman, 14San Diego, CA 1. Untitled – Jordan and Jared Ashman, 14 Jordan was your average 12 year old kid. He walked home from school alone each day, and got home to play video games and eat candy. One day, after a particularly tiring day at school, he decided he wanted to take a shortcut home from school. Before, his mother had warned him about taking this shortcut, for she said it could be dangerous. However, Jordan was particularly tired today, and ignored his mother’s warning. He started walking into the forest, and after only a few steps, he found himself lost in the forest. Was he supposed to turn left, or right? There was barely even any light here. After almost an hour, he discovered a thin path of pebbles that he decided to follow. At the very end of the path, he discovered a temple! After pausing for a moment to take it all in, he walked inside. When Jordan walked inside, he found a deep tunnel going down to what he could only imagine was a secret layer. Walking down, he heard weird sounds inside. Coming to the bottom of the tunnel, he paused to stare in awe at the massive gate that hadn’t been there before. Walking in, he saw a massive monitor with arrows pointing all over… was that the world? He barely had a chance to register what he saw, before he was hit on the head by something from behind. He woke up in his bed, and realised it must have all been a dream. Or so he thought… Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA 2. Apricot Street – Anya Geist, 14 I walk quickly down Main Street, joining the crowd of kids rushing toward the buses. Main Street’s not an actual street; it’s a hallway in my school (and it smells like a subway station), but because it’s a pretty big hallway, everyone calls it Main Street. Outside, the roar of the buses, all lined up in a row, threatens to drown out the joyful laughter and yells of high schoolers out of school for the day. I find my way over to my friend Lily, standing with a boy on our bus, Owen. “Is the bus here yet?” Lily shakes her head. “Nope. I walked all up and down the line with Sara.” “Again? Really?” Lately bus 51 has been coming later and later. I think our driver is kind of senile. “At least we didn’t miss it,” Owen says, half-jokingly; a few weeks ago the bus left me and him at school and the assistant principal had to give us a ride home. “That’s true,” I laugh, “but still.” Eventually the bus does arrive, though, and we load onto it. There’s not a ton of kids, because of COVID, so it’s pretty quiet as it barrels down Apricot Street, where our school is located. In middle school my bus took a different route, one that went up Goddard Memorial and Airport Hill, then through the traffic jam that is Tatnuck Square. I liked that route. I liked when the bus drove past the airport; on clear days, you could see Boston from up there (or at least that’s what Liam Forester said; I never saw it myself). But now we go down Main Street (a real street this time), alongside the rest of the buses from school, until they each break off to drive their respective routes. I think it’s pretty funny how all of the buses drive together at first; it’s like a big, yellow army, slowly separating to carry out different missions. My bus’s mission has only a few stops. Owen’s is the first. “I wonder what happened with your neighbor,” I ask him when the bus is pretty close to his corner. This morning he came to school saying the police were looking for his neighbor; it was all he could talk about in first period. “Yeah . . .” he says, “I wonder if all the cop cars are still there. No kidding, it was scary when they showed up this morning, just knocking on the door, asking if we’d the guy a few doors down. I bet he did something pretty bad, though. It wouldn’t surprise me.” “Well,” I tell him, as the bus pulls to a stop, “let me know what happens.” “Yeah, I will. Bye!” The bus shakes as he and a few others get off. Coes Pond flies by as the bus navigates the city, and the rows of grey seats slowly empty, till it’s just me and Lily, talking about our classes. “Where’s your class in Romeo and Juliet?” I ask. Our English teacher is making us read it. “Act 3, I think.” “Okay. Okay. George and Jonathan” (they’re two best friends in my class) “read the balcony scene the other day—they insisted on it.” I’m laughing now. “But Jonathan couldn’t stop cracking up, so he totally ruined it. He also pronounced Capulet wrong, it was hilarious—everyone in our class was trying so hard not to laugh.” “No, really?” “Yeah, he said, like, Capultet, or something. It was so funny.” “That’s great.” Now the bus is wheeling through Newton Square, down Pleasant Street, where Berry Fusion is located—a frozen yogurt place all the kids in
Daily Creativity #8: Write a Story with a Twist Ending
It’s April Fool’s Day! Write a story with a twist ending that will totally surprise your reader.
