Young Writers Imagine a Hidden Life, and a ‘Loving Silence’
Second grader Camden Clawson works on an interactive whiteboard in class at the Piermont Village School in Piermont, N.H., on Nov. 15, 2013. Valley News - Jennifer HauckValley News - Jennifer Hauck
Math teacher Heather Caldwell works with students in class at the Piermont Village School in Piermont, N.H., on Nov. 15, 2013. Waiting to have their work looked over from left, Camdyn Kelly, Camden Clawson, and Nicole Noyes. Valley News - Jennifer Hauck
Young Writers Project is an independent nonprofit that engages students to write, helps them improve and connects them with audiences through the Newspaper Series (and youngwritersproject.org) and the Schools Project (ywpschools.net).
The sound of pop music getting louder just beside my ear slowly dissolved the blanket of sleep I had been so nicely wrapped in. I looked at my iHome. It was midnight. And I was now listening to Battle Scars by Lupe Fiasco.
As you’ve probably guessed, I am no ordinary kid. I live a double life as pet, a dog, to be exact, and I’m the pet of Dule Hill. Although he’s not super famous he’s a total boss. Right now he’s acting in the TV show Psych as Gus. He’s rich enough so that when I want something, I get it, and I was even featured in one of the episodes he was doing.
Anyway, I stepped out of bed and continued to listen to music as I locked my bedroom door and opened the window. I turned the music off before slithering under the window onto a ridge on the outside of our house. I then proceeded to jump from my second story bedroom window …
To read the complete story, go to http://youngwritersproject.org/node/86149
Prompt: Photo 2 (Photo by Julie Pearce of Essex High School)
The door is cracked and the room is silent
as a loving father walks in.
“Hush,” I say as I put my finger to my lips. “They are asleep.”
A beam of light from the hallway shines across the youngest’s face,
but she does not stir as he kisses her head tenderly.
Next, the oldest.
He is still young but strong.
His father kisses his head and says, “Goodnight, soldier.”
Then he goes to bed kissing his wife and mother of his children.
He turns out the light; the moon illuminates the room brightly
as the two lovers sleep peacefully with a son and a daughter down the hall.
I wrap my arms around Alex.
“I’ll miss you,”
I whisper into her ear.
She nods and stays silent,
her head pressing into my chest.
I feel her heartbeat,
listen to her soft breathing
as her fingers wind with mine,
playing and twisting together.
I stroke her hair, wishing this trip
didn’t have to end,
wishing I could stay here forever,
in this tent,
in the near-dark,
and feeling her warmth
spread through my chilled limbs…
Read the complete poem at youngwritersproject.org/node/85645